On Mothering:

it's getting harder to tell
your socks from mine,

i suppose it's only a
matter of time

before you won't fit
on the curve of my lap,

and soon will end the days
of our piggy-backs,

you are nearly not ticklish.

i am increasingly awed
by your astute observations,

my mouth agape after
morning conversations

every day finds you lovelier.

(Sidenote: My daughter is now a capable scrabble player - my life is beautiful)

- - - - - -
On Love:

I wait for you with baited breath
ghosts at my ankles, we play
longing melodies on heartstrings
to keep ourselves amused, but our song is for you,

I hope you hear its rhythm
in every step you take
it simply sings

remember
somber love
grave and sober, it remains

will not wither while you wander
will not wonder where you roam,

simply hums
waiting for you.


And:

digging in with our bare hands
we plant seeds,
our fingers mingling with soil and sunlight

we push and pull
we sweat together
and this is a harvest i long to taste,

lick my lips
when i think of the juice
that will surely drip from our chins.

- - - - - -
On Winter:

let's not mourn the leaves
that crush beneath our footprints,
simply remember

the roots, the seeds
lie dormant,
not dead or in despair

let us remember
that all living things
deserve to rest.

- - - - - -
On Exhaustion:

I pull the earth over my body
dust it over my eyes

I finally found a good place to hide
when I die,

bury me with a gun
I want to be ready for the day they dig me up