Modest changes
In the leaves
Coolness
In the breeze
Calmness
In my heart-
Each one
A dot
On the landscape
Of this life
But interwoven
They are stories
Lessons
Heartaches
All leading
To a beautiful
Transformation
Long awaited
Colors of Fall
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. ❤️
Sharing a previously posted poem today. Taking my own advice…rest. 😊
Notes
Rests
Sound
Silence
Working
Together
To make music
Pleasing
Not only
To the ears
But also
Body, mind, soul
And yet,
One key
Element
Is often
An afterthought-
Silence
If not
Savored
Disappears
Transposing
Sweet melody
To mere noise
Leaving
No time
To breathe
No time
To sing
They entered
This world
One at time
Their first breath
An indication
Of stories to come
Now they come and go
At various times
For various reasons
Like individual clouds
On a blue-sky day
Offering shade
From the heat
Of the sun
Or raindrops
To water the flowers
And dot the sidewalk
Then there are
Those moments
When they all
Come together
In a storm
Of laughter
That fills the air
And leaves behind
The sweetest calm
Enjoying a weekend with the kids! ❤️
I can feel
The weary
In my heart
Hear it
In my hands
But I play
And share
Then play
Some more…
Left lighter
“How wonderful life is while you’re in the world” ❤️
On our way
To a coffee shop
Little girl
Laughing
Running
Down the sidewalk
Her little dog
Running alongside
Dad and brother
Close behind
Their destination
An interactive
Statue standing
On the corner
An airplane
With a propellor
Inviting them to spin
Pick us up, Daddy!
Each had their turn
That was so much fun!
They kept walking
I noticed dad’s shirt
It was torn and tattered
They were smiling
I wonder what will be
Their next destination
Driving past
A group of people
Who have no home-
Only make-shift
Shelters made
From cardboard
And blankets
All their belongings
Carefully placed
In large trash bags
Or worn out
Duffle bags
A few smiled
Most looked tired
A kind of tired
I do not know
One crawled
Helplessly
Along the sidewalk-
What are their stories?
I can only guess
And guessing
Is not sufficient-
Who will share their narratives?
I wrote these two poems during our summer trip to Colorado. Our overnight stop was in a typical city, like many other cities in this country. Good restaurants and coffee shops, local charm. Also, like in other cities, many individuals are homeless.
I do not pretend to understand or have answers, but I could not look away. Nor keep from sharing.
Your tiny forehead
Tilted to one side
Quizzically
Looking my way
I think I like you?
Tiny strategic moves
On my part
Required
To bring us closer
Do you want to play?
Magic of sunglasses
Tiny red flowers
Silly iridescent mirrors
Yours vs. mine
I see your eyes quietly smiling…
Your tiny forehead
Leaning toward mine
Briefly touching
Before leaning back
Oh yes, I think I like you!
Seven-inch
Vinyl disc
Placed on
A circle
Within
A magic box
Turn the knob
Watch it spin
Forty-five
Rotations
Per minute
Place the needle
Listen as it
Moves across
The ridges
Releasing
Its power
Releasing
The music
I saw the movie Elvis yesterday with my friend, Marina. I grew up listening to Elvis. Watched his concerts on television. Remember the breaking news on the day he died.
I also remember dancing around a record player with my cousins at grandma’s house. Hound Dog and Don’t Be Cruel were our choice of 45s. We all loved Elvis.
Elvis had a style all his own, and it was controversial. People either loved him or hated him. But his roots were honest and truthful. And his contributions to our nation’s musical heritage are of great value. I am thankful his 45s were part of my childhood.
Hold On
Buds will open soon
Awaiting the hummingbirds
Simple joys of Spring
Piano Girl 