Sunday, November 13, 2016

Supermoon


Smokey sky fills up the space
with orange memories from other places.
Sun abandons my earth and takes up the other's side.
I'm left to moon, speechless and starstruck.



Photo credit: Joyce Rempel, somewhere near Saskatchewan

Monday, July 4, 2016

Oh, Yes. I do.


I want to live in a world
where little things
are noticed
small victories celebrated
like what we enjoyed for supper
because I dared make something new

Where we sit on the deck
watch the clouds change
ever so slowly
jets on approach from a different trajectory
quiet sunsets

And we guess which bird
is making that call
and we don't debate
whether that's a purple
or house finch
at the feeder

I want to live in a world where
we retire graceful and grateful
to push-mower and hammock
mustang restoration and
room redecorating
as the young stressed thin
take our place at the job

Where there's always a stage
another act another song
belly laughs and road trips
Where we do things alone
because we can't miss
each other if we're never apart

Where you wink at me
in a crowd or from the 'cycle
reach for my hand
in church or over coffee
after chocolate or wine
where you hand me
a cuppa tea at day's end

I want to live in a world
with quiet sunsets
bluegrass and bonfires
your jigsaw puzzle, my poetry
lullabies and prayers
at home in your arms



Picture: Jill Hopkins

Thursday, March 10, 2016

And A Little Child Will Lead Them




I see her in a plain red dress
not quite like little orphan Annie
because her hair is straight brown
but she takes the man’s hand

who seems to be her dad
sitting at a round table in a brown suit
from Father Knows Best
but the feeling is like home

He’s reading the newspaper
like they do in the fifties
but as soon as she grabs hold
he turns, stands and follows

where she wants him to come see
and I think that’s how it goes
when I wanna show God something
and he ooohs and ahhhs

over the tiny flower I found
or pets that puppy next door 
or we laugh together
while he fixes whatever’s

broken just like that 
he comes when I reach
or sometimes when I don’t
and I remember I’m not an orphan




Photo credit: Depositphotos.com #91173348, Standard License