The question
We always ask
Our children
What do you
Want to be
When you
Grow up?
It’s funny
I seem to be
Answering
That question
For myself
These days-
When I grow up
I want to hold
Your tiny hand
Watch your breath
Rise and fall
In the smallest
Of motions
Hear your cries
Comfort your fears
Feel the complete joy
Only found
In the heaviness
Of rocking
Back and forth
In our favorite chair
Reading our favorite stories
Singing our favorite songs
My heart younger
As yours grows stronger
Simply Sunday
Little Hands
My job was to stir
Sounds simple
A wooden spoon
Round and round
But I remember
Heat rising from
The slow-to-boil
Sweetness
My dad was always
Nearby, of course
In case little hands
Became tired
It only took
Helping one time
For the tasty
Result to be
Permanently
Etched in my soul-
How is it that
Precious details
Are so easily
Forgotten-
Eating the remaining
Warm chocolaty filling
Out of tiny glass bowls
Once my dad filled
His homemade pie crusts-
May my memory
Of a yesterday
Erase any complaints
From today
Hello Stranger
I saw you
Ten years
From now
Or maybe
It was fifteen
My perception
Of time seems
To be changing
With its passing
In any case
It certainly could
Have been you
Or at least
The future you
I sometimes imagine…
Faded jeans
Plaid shirt
White hair
Just a little
On the sides
Perhaps a little shorter
We do eventually
Start shrinking
Purposefully walking
Into a local
Coffee shop
I smiled but refrained
From saying hello
Wonder if he’s picking up a London Fog just for me?
Missing the Quiet
Morning whispers
From a cool
Breeze as it
Wakens the trees
Mid-day melodies
Sweetly strung
Across the sky
Celebrating blue
Evening laughter
From familiar voices
Around the table
Listening…no need to speak
Middle-of-the-night
Soft breaths
From the rise
And fall of
A newborn’s chest
Resting against mine
As we gently rock-
I can still hear them
As I crawl back into bed
Place my hand on your chest
And wait for sleep to come
Simply Sunday
Wrestling
Why does
The heart
So often resist
Needed change
All while
The body
Is crying
Please stop!
You need to rest!
Because of fear?
Fear of what?
Disappointing someone?
Making a wrong choice?
The heart knows
The answer
All along
Yet, continues
To wrestle
Within itself
That is, until
Strong arms
Take over
Wrapping
Themselves
Around the chest
Squeezing tight
Releasing
A message
Of reassurance-
Have faith!
It will be ok
Oh, Baby!
Baby, sweet baby
All we know
About you
At this moment
Is your last name
Baby Morris
And that you have
A strong heartbeat
Just beginning
To grow, still
Time to prepare
For your arrival-
But wait!
We do know
A few other
Things about you-
You are already loved
You already bring joy
Just by being you-
Who you are now
And who you will become-
I can’t wait to meet you!
The kids shared this amazing news with us a few weeks ago! Needless to say, we are beyond excited! ❤️
Such a sweet way to tell me. I’ve got some work to do!
Take My Advice
Don’t blink
You might miss
Something
I suppose
The helpfulness
Of that advice
Depends on the
Something
Today, for me
It was a tree
First spotted last week
Soaking in the rain
Its leaves shining
Ruby red in the
Autumn breeze
Awake and alive
Capturing the attention
Of all who passed by-
One week later
The color has faded
Leaves have fallen
And yet, the tree
Remains strong
Standing beautiful
Another unseen ring
Added to its heart
So glad I didn’t blink
Simply Sunday
Driving at Dusk
Silhouetted trees
Of blackest ink
Unwavering
Against
A radiant orange
Horizon
The Earth
Continuing
On its orbit
No slower
Or faster than
The day before
I am moving, too
Yet, somehow
Frozen
In this one
Instant of time
Unchanging
Giving me pause
Time to marvel
Until the
Moment
Fades away
In the Dirt
Hard to believe
I ever spent time
Digging
In the dirt
But I remember…
So much fun
Imaginations
Running wild
In the dirt
Seems silly now
The things once
Thought possible
In a little girl’s plans…
Sometimes the dirt
Was not forgiving
Washing it away
Required extra
Scrubbing-But, oh
The sweet smell
Of playing
In the dirt
Right before
The rain
Perhaps, it is time
To get my hands dirty
Do a little more
Digging
Wake that old
Imagination
From its dirt-free
Slumber and not
Worry so much
About looking clean
I continue to be amazed and grateful for the connections created through poetry circles facilitated by Ali Grimshaw. ❤️ https://flashlightbatteries.blog/
October Rain
I hadn’t given
Much thought
To the difference
Between Spring
Showers and
Autumn rains
Until today’s
Much needed
Precipitation
I could smell
Its approach
Last evening
In the cool air
Preparing for
A steady fall
All-day, gently
Drawing attention
To the hues
Of the season
Giving a final burst
Of color to leaves
Before they fall
A sweet reminiscence
From the very beginning
When Spring showers
Soaked the ground
Giving life to
The seed waiting
Ready to grow
Having no idea
What a beautiful
Life it would live
Piano Girl 