Foothills

One glance
Then a second
Wrinkled brow
Curious smile
Where do the mountains end?
Where do the clouds begin?

A closer look
Would perhaps
Provide answers
If answers are
What I seek-
On third glance
I choose to simply wonder
At how this
Humble horizon
Takes over my thoughts
Leaves me dreaming
Of sitting
At the foothills
Longingly
Looking up
Toward the highest peak
Where questions cease
And peace overcomes
With the passing of a gentle mountain breeze

And Older…

-For persons
Fifty years
And older-

It took hearing
This message
Multiple times
From the same
Advertisement
Over several days
Until I realized
It was speaking to me-
Wait…what was it they were selling?
No idea!
Certainly, nothing I need
Yet, it did leave me
With a question
How did I become
Part of a group
Described as
Fifty and older?
Again-no idea!
Interestingly
The words
“And older”
Provided
A glimmer of hope
For the countless
Inches of ground
I have left to cover

I wrote this poem during a recent poetry circle with Ali Grimshaw. http://flashlightbatteries.blog/ I love this process and the people with whom I’ve been privileged to write and share. Hoping for many more opportunities! ❤️

What Was I?

A calm voice
Soothes the heart
Like a quiet breeze
Soothes the rose

A harsh voice
Stirs up conflict
Like a strong wind
Stirs up dust

What was I today?

The boisterous wind
Leaving friends
And strangers alike
With dirt in their eyes?

The gentle breeze
Leaving nothing behind
But the faint memory
Of a well-timed smile?

What will I be tomorrow?

The Oklahoma winds are strong this week. A chance of storms in our forecast. The last two afternoons, outside car duty, have left me with dirt in my eyes. That unpleasantness caused me to think of how I react in certain situations. I have a choice to be calm or stormy. Tomorrow, may I lean more toward the first.

Waiting for Snow

White sky
Whooshing wind
Bare trees
I sit inside
And wait
Certain I’m not
The only one
Waiting…
For the scene
To turn upside down
Or is it right-side up?
Waiting…
For the white sky
To release its weight
And fall, fall, fall
To the ground below
Welcoming the waiting
Into its cold
Yet, joyful
Embrace
Begging us
To stay and play
Until…
Our toes are cold
Hands are frozen
Cheeks are rosy
Until…
The warmth
Beckons us
Back inside
Until…
Our cold toes
Frozen hands
Rosy cheeks
Thaw from the outside in
Or is it from the inside out?

Questions and Answers

Opening doors
Requires
Asking questions
Whether seeking
Knowledge
Creativity
Relationships-
Some we ask
Almost every day
How are you?
What’s wrong?
What do you think?
How does that work?

Listening
For answers
Is the key
I pride myself
On being
A good listener
Discovering that
Some questions
No matter
How many times
I ask them

Have no answers-
My youngest son
Turns twenty-one
Tomorrow-
Where has the time gone?

Happy Birthday, Ryan! ❤️

Freeze Frame

Pictures holding
History stored
In memory banks
Called to the surface
In a single snap
Of my fingers
Leaving me
Wondering
Why that?
Why now?
Why then?
Times I would
Like either
To forever
Forget or
Always
Remember
Each frame
Projecting
Enough
Power to
Push me into
A time-warp
Of emotions
Unless…
I slow down
Pay attention
Freeze
Each
Frame
Long enough
To grasp
This truth-
The past
Enriches
The present
Either by
Making me
Thankful
For changes
Grateful
For growth
Or content
With constants

Stand Here


Standing in
The soft sand
May feel good
On my feet
But what happens
When a storm
Approaches?
Do I remain
Uncertain
On the sand
Knowing it could
Quickly wash from
Under my feet
Or do I move
To solid ground
Standing on
The one rock
That promises
To remain strong
That calls to me
Thru the waves
Come, stand here
I will never move

Favorite Questions

What is your favorite color? Perhaps the most asked question of childhood.

You meet a new friend on the playground. What is your favorite color? Drawing a picture in art. What is your favorite color?

My answer is blue. I’m not sure it has always been blue. It seems I remember short periods of loving pink and purple. But now, it is blue.

A beautiful blue sky. My dad’s blue eyes. Waters flowing through lakes, rivers, streams. And of course, the ocean.

The varieties in shades of blue amaze me. I was reminded why on a recent drive down the Pacific Coast Highway.

Looking out over ocean views, I could see the color-changing lines in the water. A perfect separation, as if someone had painted one section then the next. And those blues continued as far as the eye could see, until finally meeting the blues of the sky.

Yes, blue is my favorite color. What is yours? 💙