One thinks
that
the holiday
season
has
slipped away
again.
Mindless
Moments
spent
shopping
and
baking
and
tieing
ribbons.
But it
doesn't
come.
The feeling
that
caught
you
once.
the
magic.
Until
a
neighbor.
recovering
from a
lung
transplant.
Whom
you,
without
so
much
as
a
 thought,
dug
canas
up
and
dahliahs
and
said,
"what
else
do you
need
to be
done?"
Shows
up
at your
door
with
season's
warmth.
And
you
bite
into
a
baked
good
filled
with
cardamon
and
are
transported
to
Stockholm
1986.
And
then
you
realize
it
is
a
year's
worth.
Do
good.
Make
the
best of
everything.
Live
simply.
Love
generously.
Leave
the
rest
alone.
Blessed
Christmas.

say good-bye

In the summer of 1979
I slipped away from
human contact.  Days were
spent catching tadpoles,
rummaging around in
abandoned cars left in a
ravine close to our home,
and stripping off my clothes
and sun-bathing in our
neighbor's apple orchard.  It
was then that I realized I
was destined to journey
by myself.  It seemed better
that way.  I could discover
things on my own.  I could
stick them in a pocket
and let them be my secret.
My very own.  The time
drifted by in a glow of
sticky, humid Iowa days.
And here I am some thirty-three years later and I
find it just the same.  Endless
days spent by myself are better.  I can put the moments
in my pocket to remain my
very own.  No one to negate
the joyessness I find.  No
one to lead me away from
my very own discoveries.
No one to eventually
say good-bye.

morning walk 2/19/12

January 29, 2012

Hank/5 months

silent and heavy

there was something
about that 09/11/01
and everything that
surrounded it
something with
the
ebb
and
flow
something
about
the emotion
that
spilled
over
and
embedded
itself
in
life
blood
something
that
twinged
and
eeked
and
flowed
that
whose
mere
objective
was
turmoil
and
renaissance.

4 months

I was attacked by bees....

and spent the rest of the day under the bed.

Who me? No, I didn't do anything.

Summertime and the livin' is easy.

summer heat

Dog Days of Summer

These are a few of my favorite things:

Naps on the porch.

8 weeks

i've fallen madly, deeply in love

Welcome Home, Baby Hank

You
slept
on
my
lap
the
whole
way
home
After
you
cried
a
good-bye
licked
my
face
and
bit
my
lip.

welcome summer

Happy Mother's Day

Two
weeks
ago
you
glided
in
once
again
and
we
swapped
stories
about
plants
and
food
and
how
grandma
won't
use
her
stove
because
she's
afraid
she'll
leave
it
on
and
we
unconsciously
found
ourselves
holding
hands
as
we
strolled
through
easter
lilies
and
hyacinth
You
have
filled
me
with
everything
I am
I have become
I wish to be
With
each
step
and
breath
and
gesture
you
are
with
me
Much
love.

a poem always presents itself

I
have
been
struggling
with
words
lately
A
world
turned
upside-down
earthquakes
and
nuclear
meltdowns
an
environment
created
turns
it's
anger
on
my
passion
a
dog
who
I
thought
would
enter
my
life
loose
in
a
foreign
world
and
my
own
voice
being
quieted
And,
yet,
I
go
outside
to
free
vegetable
beds
of
winter's
wrath
and
two
cardinals
interplay
in
the
promise
of
spring
cheap-
cheap-
cheap
in
your
vibrant
scarlet
being
encircling
each
other
the
dance
must
continue
and
play
it's
song
it
becomes
clear
amongst
all
the
turmoil
there
remains
a
constant;
to
breathe,
and
love,
and
believe
this
will
continue
amongst
the
chaos
cheap-
cheap-
cheap-
cheap-
cheap-
cheap.

little silence