Tuesday, April 30, 2013

National Poetry Month: Day 30


First Chair

To celebrate
despite the storm
and the hour
we clambered
into the over-lit shop
waited our turn
made our choices
tipped the pretty high school girls
and stumbled back
onto the post-rain sidewalk
scoops of cold celebration
cupped in our hands.

We walked up and back
telling the story again
when you found out
what they said
and how it felt
as our ice cream
began to melt
and disappear.

Monday, April 29, 2013

National Poetry Month: Day 29


Crashing around in the undergrowth
not even a storm can pry
these tiny circles of light from my hands.

The sun was shining.

A woodpecker spiraled the tree.

Something was lost.

Something else was found.

The work went well.

Sunday, April 28, 2013

National Poetry Month: Day 28


April Showers

One good rain is enough
to turn the backyard to jungle
lush and buggy
can't take a single step
toward the garden
without a bite or a tickle
something inevitably
crawling up your leg.

The birds
cannot stop talking about it.

Saturday, April 27, 2013

National Poetry Month: Day 27


Photograph

There is a photograph that exists only
in my mind.

I am wearing yellow
and a hat

hurrying.

There are cars
and palm trees.

There is so much Florida sky
it is hard to see
anything else.

It smells of lemon
fish
and sunscreen.

I am looking right at you.

Friday, April 26, 2013

National Poetry Month: Day 26


Weather

It is not enough
to talk about the weather.

We all have
the same humid experience
chronic discussion
at the dinner table.
We are easily distracted.

Something rolls
under the couch
and we just
watch
it
go.

Burn things for balance.

Gather what we can.

Thursday, April 25, 2013

National Poetry Month: Day 25


Rough Draft

Not so much cornbread
as a pile of cornmeal

not so much cornmeal
as an ear of corn

not so much an ear of corn
as seed

not so much seed
as earth

not so much earth
as air.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

National Poetry Month: Day 24


Carry

Our ritual walk
later than usual
almost dusk
carrying the day
between us.

What is wounded
what is forgotten
or misremembered
heavier with every step.

Last time
the deer stopped
and watched
chewing
nostrils flared
as we moved past.

Today there are two
crashing through the brush
startled disappearing
taking the weight
with them
as we turn
and walk back
in just enough light.