To Write Yesterday’s Poem
It’s hard to look back into time,
search out the reason and the rhyme,
and all the sense that we can make.
We want to do another take.
And even now with all we know,
it’s hard to write yesterday’s poem.
All Good Things
You have everything you need today.
I want to give you so much more.
I want to give you all good things,
the ones not in the store.
Someone to look up to.
A shed of scrap materials.
Apologies sometimes.
To know all of life is the “real world.”
A country road to walk on
beneath the glowing moon.
A spark of delight when you hear
that daddy will be home soon.
The confidence to stand at the front.
The courage to disagree.
Enough grace for others and yourself.
A little grace for me.
An understanding of how to gain knowledge.
The patience to practice your art.
A hideaway to fill with dreams.
Hope anchored in your heart.
Morning
You could use a bit more sleep.
I could use a bit more you.
If I leave you alone to sleep real deep,
will you wake up in a minute or two?
I’m pouring coffee, frying eggs,
I’m making up some toast
for breakfast with my sleepyhead,
the one I love the most.
But Me, I Don’t Mind Change
But me, I don’t mind change.
Let’s get on with it.
Let’s do something different.
I wouldn’t mind a bit.
If staying here is normal,
let’s do something strange.
To some that may be scary,
but me, I don’t mind change.
Taste for Books
If you can read it, she will eat it.
She has a taste for books
and envelopes and papers.
They’re everywhere she looks!
They motivate her crawling.
They spur her to great heights.
(She also has an interest
in her mom’s reading light.)
She probably wonders why
we seem to really care
about those little markings
at which we often stare.
One day she’ll understand
why we do what we do.
It’s really quite simple:
we have a taste for books, too!
I Won’t Write a Poem Today
This Could Be a Song
It’s been one of those days.
It’s been one of those weeks
when getting pushed down
has reached a peak.
We keep walking, talking
about where we ought to be
so that we keep moving, doing
what it takes to be free.
This could be a song.
Just put the words with notes.
Sing it to your children;
tell them this is how life goes.
Life sure takes it out of you
until something’s got to give.
Sing high, sing low, sing “We don’t know!
Lord, teach us how to live.”
Things fall apart.
They call it “entropy.”
Which is why we’re always running
out of energy.
And our lists get longer
as our patience runs thin.
It gets out of control, and all we know
is it’ll happen again.
This could be a song.
Just put the words with notes.
Sing it to your children;
tell them this is how life goes.
Life sure takes it out of you
until something’s got to give.
Sing high, sing low, sing “We don’t know!
Lord, teach us how to live.”
If we think it will be easy,
we won’t see this through.
We’ll be blind to what it takes
and what others have to do.
We might put off our serving
until our own needs are met,
Soon we’d be dying, finding
we’ve not been satisfied yet.
This could be a song.
Just put the words with notes.
Sing it to your children;
tell them this is how life goes.
Life sure takes it out of you
until something’s got to give.
Sing high, sing low, sing “We don’t know!
Lord, teach us how to live.”
Country Block
There is a country block
with a city on one corner
and my friends live on one mile
and my family on another.
Each day we do our best work,
working side by side.
We have each other over
for a meal most every night.
And on weekends we go swimming
in the ocean ‘cross the road
or go hiking on the mountain
on this country block I know.
Sunshine On a Cold Day
Sunshine on a cold day
can’t take all the cold away.
Socks are warm when freshly dried.
I pull them on and look outside.
Crystals swirl like dryer lint
and the sunshine makes them glint.
Eggs
Maybe they think it’s time for us to go.
Maybe they want to see us move far, far
away. Maybe they know.
Time to go wash the eggs off the car.
Maybe they think that all we have is trash.
Maybe they think that that is who we are.
Someday (maybe) they’ll know.
Time to go wash the eggs off the car.