In these two weeks since I have written,
the first warm days of spring have come,
and we have spent no little time
making up for lack of sun.
And we have talked until we’ve found
where our sameness ends
and then we’ve talked until we’ve found
a way to still be friends.
And I have pushed the stroller fast
for miles on the trail
and we’ve come home, sat on the step
and sorted through the mail.
And then we pruned the apple tree
which had been getting thick
and you reached out too far to lop
one more superflous stick
and that is when the ladder fell
and so, of course, did you.
I rushed you to the doctor
just like when you had the flu
except this time your eyes were rolling
back into your head
because your pinky snapped in two.
I’m glad that you weren’t dead.
And now you have some little screws
holding the bone together
and a blocky splint to wear
in this nice springy weather.
And our baby took several steps
until she stopped and saw
she was too far up off the ground
so she dropped down and crawled.
And I made logos and labels and emails
and you made calculations
and tips and wages to put in the bank
to save for a downpayment.
Our seedling have sprawled across my desk
and into pots on the floor.
I am surprised how much they’ve grown
but maybe we’ve grown more.
Someone in the Neighborhood
Someone in the neighborhood is making lots of noise ripping something apart.
Someone in the neighborhood is driving the curves with a broken heart.
Someone in the neighborhood is being taken for walks by their pet.
Someone in the neighborhood hasn’t enjoyed the warm weather yet.
Someone in the neighborhood is remembering better times.
Someone in the neighborhood is racking her brain for rhymes.
Don’t Go to Facebook
Don’t go to facebook for inspiration when you’re trying to be poetic.
You’ll be sucked in for hours and come out feeling confused, amused, and pathetic.
You’ll have seven tabs open with articles you’ve been recommended to read
and three more tabs with giveaways of things you probably need.
And you’ll find out someone is pregnant and someone else is married
and so much information that your own thoughts will be buried.
Life With the Blinds Closed
You live life with the blinds closed
but I am here to pull them open
with a zipping sound as I pull the chord down.
Yes, soon you’ll be livin’ and hopin’.
This Easter
I did not go to Iowa this Easter.
I did not sing Keith Green’s song “Easter Song.”
There’s lots of things I didn’t do
but I did a few things new
and making all things new
has been a big part of Easter all along.
Pruning
We reach up to prune the trees,
decreasing to increase,
and God with love does the same to us
and with a downward reach.
Yes, you were foolish, you forgot to think,
when you reached too far from the ladder.
But God thought long and hard and knew
that he would wisely rather
fall to the ground, like you, with pain
except more like a seed
that dies, is buried and rises again
to give us what we need.
My Bass
The two who owned my bass before me
are both in their own bands
and they have better basses now,
but mostly it’s their hands
and ears that have improved,
and that’s because of time.
I better solder up this bass
and dedicate some of mine.