Beautifully bare
Impressions
From life’s
Encounters
Left behind as
History lessons
For anyone
Willing to give
A little time-
See the hawk
Proudly perched
On a branch
Looking back
One more time
At the empty nest
That not long ago
Held its young
Once again
Ready to fly
The past
Held close
To her heart
A catalyst
For change
A sanctuary
For reminiscing
What makes a year?
Logic says
Seconds, minutes, hours
Days, weeks, months
Equally spaced
To help us keep track-
Of what, I’m not sure
Oh, there’s no denying
The answer when
My birth year
Is subtracted
From the current year
But the larger
That number grows
The less it represents
Anything equally spaced
What makes a year?
My heart says
The love of others
The beauty of nature
Grief, heartache, and loss
Faith, hope, and love
None of which
Fit into any calendar
All of which
Even the torn edges
Can be transformed
Into a much-cherished
Collage of memories
It’s too quiet
Something my mom
Used to say after
Our holiday visits
Well, actually
After any visit
Once their nest
Was empty
And although
Our nest is
Not quite empty
I’m beginning
To understand
The sentiment
A flurry of activity
The aroma of food
Being prepared
But mostly, the voices-
Once they return
To their own homes
The quiet leaves space
For melancholy
And missing
But mostly, the quiet
Leaves space
For memories
And a grateful heart
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
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
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/
I first met the birthday girl a little over thirty years ago. She was kind and accepting even then. It is hard to believe she was my age when we met. Maybe a little younger. A mom and grandma, it seemed her life was already complete. At least, that was my perspective.
Here we are, thirty years later. It seems a lot more life has happened in that time. More grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and the death of a spouse after fifty-plus years of marriage.
So now, as we celebrate her, I try to imagine her perspective. Those thirty years, though eventful, only represent a portion of her life. She did a lot of living prior.
She speaks lovingly of her parents. Just yesterday, about how her dad played the piano. Talks regularly to her siblings who are still living. Keeps up with distant relatives and old friends.
Has a love of horses that began as a child. She recalls fondly walking with her girlfriend to the stables. Pretending to gallop as they walked, then riding horses before returning home. She even bought two horses in her lifetime!
Her second horse was sold before she moved from California to New York. A job as a flight attendant at American Airlines called. And that move, that job, lead to meeting her husband. The rest is history, as they say.
So, how would such a girl celebrate her 80th birthday? Surrounded by daughters, granddaughters, great-granddaughters, daughter-in-law, granddaughter-in-law…you get the picture. Eating, laughing, remembering, and enjoying time together. And, of course, attending a horse show.
This birthday girl wears her crown of white with pride. As well as her life experiences. Sharing what we are willing to hear. Continuing to move forward, making new memories.
I can only hope that 80 looks this good on me!
Happy birthday, June! ❤️
Magic
In a tiny
Cardboard disc
Cutout windows
Evenly spaced
Around its edges
Each one holding
Transparent film
Unclear images
Until said disc
Is carefully placed
In the slot on top
Of the viewfinder-
Eyes glued
To the lenses
Held up to the light
And a whole new
Word emerges
Click the side button
To continue the journey
Image after image
Sharing a story
Worth telling-
We all have a story
Worth telling
Our very own
Cardboard disc
Filled with
Windows
To the soul
Sharing another poetry circle poem. Thankful for opportunities and connections. ❤️
Begin with
Determination
Remembering
As the slope
Increases
Baby steps
Are best
Requiring
Less energy
Rest stops
Are necessary
But never
Long enough
At some point
The destination
Will feel farther
Away than when
You started
But once the end
Is in sight
Relief floods
Body, mind, soul
Celebrating while
Begging for rest
Time to just be
In the place you
Struggled to reach
Grateful, tho once again
Never long enough…
Yesterday, my husband and I cheered on our daughter as she ran her first 5K! Yesterday, our youngest son was in Texas, helping our oldest son and his wife move to a new apartment! Today, I remember how we were all together just two months ago, hiking to Browns Falls in Colorado. Today, I am grateful. ❤️
There are few things I enjoy more than celebrating our children’s birthdays. Favorite meals, cake and ice cream, candles, family and friends singing.
These days fill me with questions about the passing of time. It appears so logical when looking at a calendar or clock. And yet, within the heart cannot be explained. For there, it is intertwined with memories and feelings.
Today is the twenty-fifth birthday of our daughter. And I find myself pulled between two points in time.
First, remembering those early days. Crying all the time, both of us. 😉 Never physically far away from each other. Feeling exhausted but so happy.
And the present…watching her passion for life, others, and education. Her strength and determination. Enjoying our conversations and shopping trips. Feeling proud of who she is.
Two different times, with lots of journeying in between.
Happy birthday, Rachel! We love you! ❤️
Piano Girl 