Posted in Uncategorized, tagged brother, family, love, summer on June 26, 2020| 7 Comments »
We ride on the rusty old bikes
in the swelter of June,
legs pumping, waving at strangers,
the wind making a kite
of our laughter—
The eight-year-old version of me
would never believe
about how happy we are—
she’s still ratting her brother out
to the recess guard.
But here we are, like two
young kids, playing in summer—
sticky hands and suntanned arms,
the years an ocean,
our love a boat.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged love, solstice, summer, sun on June 22, 2020| 5 Comments »
though during midsummer in Finland, the sun will float
above the horizon line for weeks, and each light-soaked
day seems longest. That is what I wish for you—
day after day of unsetting love, whole months when you feel
the most beloved, the most seen, the most embraced
for exactly who you are. I want to send you
giant bouquets of days, all of them the loveliest,
all of them invitations to feel the most wholly yourself.
And on the shorter days when warmth feels distant,
those are the days I want to remind you that it’s normal
to feel unlovable. It’s normal to feel not enough.
It’s normal to wish (unreasonable though it is)
that those days would disappear and every day could be
the best day, the longest light, the day most soaked with love.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged friendship, summer, the moment on May 29, 2020| Leave a Comment »
for Danny, Wendy & Art
The breeze was warm
and the day was hot
and the shade on the porch
was generous.
It was nothing magic.
It was total magic—
each moment, each word
a spell.
We spoke of news
and poetry, we spoke
of healing and loss.
It was forgettable.
I will never forget it—
the hush of our voices,
the currents of laughter
that wound around
the trees and the willows,
surrounding us like moat.
How could we predict the moments
that shape us the most?
The dogs lying at our feet.
The summer just starting
to burn.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged hiking, love, meadow, summer on May 17, 2020| 2 Comments »
A big green meadow
opened in my heart
filled with dark purple larkspur
and fragrant sage—
and I stepped into it,
wondering how I had ever
stepped out of it—
come, meet me here,
here in the temple
of pulse and blue sky,
where everything
seems possible,
even love forever,
even love right now.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged poem, poetry, summer, time on July 1, 2019| 4 Comments »
Tonight we wander the fresh mown grass,
barefoot. Winter feet refused to believe it were possible—
but here we are, naked of sole and stepping slow
on soft green earth. Sometimes a whole life
folds into a moment, a moment such as this one,
when the scent of grass is bright in the air
and the sun slants a long and golden trail
and the breeze barely whispers
and the swallows redefine gravity
and you know you belong among the wildflowers
and you start to believe in impossible things
like now, like here, like soft green grass.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged autumn, parting, poem, poetry, summer on September 15, 2018| Leave a Comment »
Summer travels beyond itself and
warms the stones and gives
the flowers more of what they love.
it is like a lover who, though he
has told you he is leaving, returns
and kisses you until you are panting,
makes you believe he will always
hold you. But then, even as your lips part
and you lean in, he is gone again,
taking his warmth with him,
leaving your skin somehow more fragile
in the thin autumn air.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged drought, poem, poetry, praise, summer, water on July 4, 2018| 8 Comments »
Praise the summer, with its
endless drought. How you’d rather
revile it, change it, pray
for the world to be another way.
Praise the sky, relentlessly clear,
and the dry field that crunches
beneath your feet.
You dream of green, dream
of laughing in the rain, dream
of puddles and the thin river
rising. But praise the scarcity,
how it teaches you what
you would rather not know—
how fragile the balance,
how every drop matters,
how lucky it is
to grow.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged friendship, poem, poetry, summer on July 3, 2016| 3 Comments »
for Christie and Dave
While standing amidst
the airy branches
of the mulberry bush
and pulling the darkest
fruits to our lips
and laughing
in the bliss of it,
it’s easy to believe
we will always
be happy, that there
will always be sweetness
enough to share,
and that there will always
be something wonderful
yet to ripen.
Yes, it is raining,
and yes, there are troubles,
far away and even inside
our own stories,
but for now, there’s
this branch, heavy
with midsummer,
there’s this humming
of old melodies
we all know, there’s
this stain on our chins,
on our busy hands.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged aging, body, poem, poetry, summer on June 23, 2016| 2 Comments »
Summer, what could you say to this body,
this body nearing its autumn?
What could your flowers teach this heart
about blooming despite heat, despite drought?
What could your shortening days tell this woman
about opening to light?
Summer, I think I know too much.
Teach me warm. Teach me thunderstorm.
Teach me how to be green, and then greener.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged camping, poem, poetry, summer, tent on July 24, 2015| 1 Comment »
