If
I’ll take you to the pool,
and we’ll go out on walks
and pluck up blades of grass
and learn to not eat rocks,
and I’ll push you in the swing
and we’ll watch your dad brew beer
and picnic on the yard
if we have summer this year.
Eggs
Eggs for breakfast,
omelets for lunch,
eggs on salads,
and boiled to munch.
Eggs in the basket
and eggs in the nest,
but the chickens are tired.
They’ve decided to rest.
This Time
This silence is a welcome rest.
This space is where I think.
This time is like an empty cup
that’s filled up to the brink.
“Your Baby’s First Year”
“Your Baby’s First Year,”
and some cover art
remind me–– it’s almost gone!
And it breaks my heart.
Shade
Some trees outlive us.
Some trees we outlive.
And if everything stayed alive
to shade our perfect lives
we would have to be
the very first to die.
Strong Hands
Your strong hands on the chainsaw,
and your strong arms have a knack
for getting it done, although it’s not fun.
Now I need strong hands for your back.
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-seven books checked out from the library
and I can only read one at a time.
But to the library I go, and I can’t say no
to a book whose name calls to mine.
Ice Storm
I suppose these branches were weak,
and so many trees needed pruning,
and we really needed the moisture,
and God has his own sense of timing.
So often we complain
about how long things take
and we don’t like to wait
but then listen to us when
it all
happens
at once.
The Ice Storm
I had never seen ice like that.
I had never seen branches so fat
and so many limbs, falling to the ground,
so many repetitions of that crack-and-shatter sound.
So many trunks and wires and sticks
all buried in snow, to add to the mix.