Archive for May, 2007

creek dreams

creek dreamssweet-smelling
creek waters
into fertile banks
which like a sponge
soak up
the ever-giving flow of days
days filled with leaves
in whirlpools of light
gurgling voices amidst
rock outcrops
dreams suspended


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Grandma’s Hair

Grandma and MeGrandma’s hair was white
And sparse
Like a thin blanket of new snow
That lay ever so gently
Atop her large forehead

It drew back from her face
Like flakes that
Magically melt away at roof’s edge
And invite you to stand
Beneath the cover
And watch the world drift by

The beauty shop
Made her curls tight and
Tame around her face
When they relaxed – loose and unruly
It became her

She had large framed glasses
That sat comfortably on her
Jagged nose
A wholesome smile
That made you want to
Squeeze her bulging cheeks
And full life-loving laughter

Grandma was built small
But full of strength and spirit
She bedded late
And rose early
And was not a sound sleeper
She liked her coffee dark and tepid
And was fine with leftover – slightly re-warmed
And for breakfast
One egg sunny-side up

She always served me a banquet
A fine selection of tiny cereal boxes
Would stand in a row by an empty bowl
And pitcher of milk
Sides of applesauce and cottage cheese
Were standard fare
And then eggs and sausage
White toast with jelly
And orange juice

In the oak church pew
Her voice was strong and blustery
She carried herself straight and proud
Her wrinkled hands held hymnals low
For me to follow her finger with the notes

We often sat on her porch glider
On hot Sunday afternoons
And ate ice cream sandwiches
Or drank iced coca-cola
And spoke of nothing
But listened to church bells
And ladies heels
Clipping down slate sidewalks

Every January, Grandma started a new journal
The year printed in fancy white numbers
On a brown faux leather cover
She filled pages daily
With black ink and secrets
My grandma never knew
She inspired me to write

I remember our last visit
She in her worn brown-cushion chair
A blanket across her knees
Not as sharp as always
But her smile still true
And comforting

The day I said goodbye
She handed me a 20 dollar bill
That smelled of
The musty safe in her basement
She told me to buy myself a milkshake
We laughed

That bill still resides in my car console
Sealed in a plastic bag to preserve the smell
The last memory I have
Of my grandma
Besides her hair
Laying on a down pillow
Loose and unruly

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children.jpgBarren as my daughter’s cradle
Her quilt still folded neatly
I contemplate my reflection
Eclipsed by kitchen light

As I sift through piles of dishes
And memories of dinner blessings
And holding hands
Hands so small and soft and full of life

I take in my world through timid eyes
Squinting for fear of being seen
Like a child who hides her face
And wonders where you are

I find myself
Hidden in years of mothering,
Still as the doll perched on the dresser
Waiting to be found by those searching

One morning I discover myself
Draped across the sun-dappled sheets
Exposed as the unforgiving colors
Emblazoned on a white canvas

Remote treasure now unearthed
Wild vines spring forth
Boasting tender full berries

Awaiting hands to set them free
Lips to exploit soul’s yearning
Such voluminous flow
Overcomes the page, the portrait

Still life no longer still
I open the bedroom door
Into a new day

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native.jpgWise one,
Weave your blanket with mine
Firelight dances in your careful eyes
Heart strings in harmony
Sing gratitude for this connection

You, warrior, armed with gentleness
Walking tall in your truth
You breed clarity with your conviction
Love with your wholeness
Peace with your word

Drum beats quicken as I draw close
To that mirror which is you
I breathe deep into your knowing
At peace with the fullness of your gift

I celebrate your creation, you creating
The magic that is you

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