Tuesday, May 31, 2016

There's a storm brewing




I feel it when I walk out the door to pick some basil
vibrant, green, blown about by the wind
carrying the smell of rain. The rain.

In the South dense, sulfur blue clouds
In the Northeast a sparkling sun and cyan.

And as the wind blows
my old dog is dying
no longer taking food
and the vet I respect advises we plan
for his comfort
as she passes me the Kleenix box.


But life calls.
The rain quenching the brittle soil.
The worms rising to feed the robin's hungry hatchlings.

And my youngest Springer readies
just shy of delivering seven pups
with tiny hearts beating
in the ultrasound
bright-dim-bright-dim-bright
under the vet's probe.


It was only a week or so ago
when my former love of twenty years
who no longer
speaks to me
had a massive
seven bypasses worth coronary.

And our daughter
disregarded his instructions.
Much like the storm moving onward
she worriedly nurses back his health
and the puppies turn ready to greet us.


Wednesday, May 18, 2016

For a young woman whose father is ill

Tragedy strikes on its own whim
after a lifetime of threats
and then whoooosh
like a sled on a snowy dark mountainside
it takes off

Surprising
even he who wished to fly and never return.

Be like that rider, dare, challenge, curse the sled.
But take care not to blame
the cold
or the dark
or burrow too far into the snow
exposing
life's crystalline fragility.

Cry
promise
plead
forgive forget
and then fall exhausted into the arms of those who love you.

Don't resist, don't hold in, or hold back.
Everyone soars and everyone falls
deep, deeper still and then
once more
down Alice's rabbit hole
and into unseen light.
Their light.

There is only so much one can do
on someone else's journey.
Except perhaps step aside
and marvel at the shadow and the light.

And then dance your dance
and fly your flights
and hold open your arms
so others can come inside.