They

To the squirrel who pilfered
To the rabbit who skulked
I stand by my poison pen

Gone be the peaches I nurtured since spring
Struck down, the sweat-sown echinacea

The day-long and long night, again and again
The witnesses to the crimes against friend

But rather than hate, abate, terminate

I give gratitudinous nod
To berries, beans, basil

And rose

See, me and my pen
Befriend, overcome

Thus, conquering peskiest pests

For Father’s, In Advance

For the fathers who found me right where I was at those given times, and right on-time

You, who, with green eyes, blue eyes, and blue-green eyes

Loved me with a love that helped me grow tall, be tall, and stay tall

Thank you for the canned vegetables, the frozen vegetables for-the-first-time-in-a-lifetime, and for the fresh-from-the-farm-and-roadside vegetables

Though some would seriously judge, I needed your yo’ mama jokes, bar room jokes, and first thing in the morning jokes, to remind me to smile

-you showed This firstborn how to be Serious Business, after all-

Thank you forefathers, for being my fathers, for being there then, and though elsewhere now, for being still here nonetheless

Uninsulated

Thank you for this window now,
Of thin and vintage time.
The safehouse to set a spell,
The anchored birch, my lean-to.
That I’d be reminded
In these gusty days
There is still
The reaching skyward
And strength to see it.

Butter Cream

I remember cake not stained by the hurry-hurry dye of “let’s get this done, before too many take note of another year added….”

I’ll choose the sweetness of grateful desire to linger over the celebration of seasons represented there at the table, the love not subtracted.

Cosy

We all have the look of alone, alone

Save for the duo who just strolled through the revolving door

They look alone together

The cheerleader in me asks them to embrace here and now

And be grateful for the together part

What of this urge to cheer for them…and then I remember

Be content with this, never want for more

This Cup

I’m learning how to cry in deep despair and pour my blessed hot coffee at the very same time

Pain and gratitude in the same cup, indeed

I’m becoming better at praying goodness for others at my broken heart’s expense

Love and sacrifice from the same vein, it frees

I’m deciding to live with the dread of the box I was put into and with hope that I’ll one day be free

Abuse and healing in the same lifetime, glory

Dine

Now
That I’ve taken care of others’ cares
All that’s left is me
The leftover me
Who looks less delicious
Than yesterday
Who, though feeling frozen
Is already prepared
And is worthy
Of my own gratitude nonetheless

img_0981