this has been quite a year

new diet
new hair
new body
new teeth
new clothes
new shoes
new glasses
new daughter in law

a daughter in law.

a wedding.


i'm so happy
but i know
i'll cry



so dance me to the moon
& the stars will be my tears
     dance me back again
        to wish them golden years

life boat

on my journey
I jumped ship,
the world cruise.

now it's just the sky

and sea
and fish
and me

floating on faith
that I didn't make

following a shining star
of mercy

bow set toward
 an endless horizon
of hope.

thy will.
be done.

pink and blue

pink with sketchy ballerinas

not quite like this but close enough
 

the wall paper
I remember 2 windows with blinds
and swiss dot Pricilla curtains?
two beds and dressers
and hardwood floors.
I never spent much time in there.
this was my sisters' room.
they fought and whispered and shared
and dreamed and read in their room
together for years.
one was sloppy and one was neat.
they had boundary wars and traded clothes
I had my own room.
blue roses covered the walls that were around the seven windows.
I had to go through my little brothers' room to get in or out of it.
he would sing me to sleep at night sometimes.
whenever I approached the pink room
there were screams from within to GET OUT!
if I tried to borrow clothes, I heard,
you're too fat! you'll stretch them out! go away! Mom!
funny the things we remember.
they are still close today in their fifties.
even though one lives in france.
they have a history together that binds them.
I was told I was almost a twin, but the other sack was empty.
I think I've been lonely ever since.

moan

the wind is moaning through the crack in the window
the wind wants to push in
it sounds mad.
i'm 2 days away from being half way there.
I wake up in the morning now,
anticipating the battle i'll have with my tongue.
that ornery little bugger pretends like
it has everything to do with my wellbeing.
God gave us a tongue to taste and to give thanks
but mine wants more always wants more.
it's wearing me out
all this discipline.
I paint.
my paint brush is like my tongue.
i'm trying to keep it in the lines.
i'm trying to make it do things I tell it to do.
but it wants to go somewhere else.
never satisfied. always comparing.
i'd rather be painting this, it says.
I wish I could paint that it says.
sometimes I just have to walk away.
I just want to be myself.
and i'm tired of the world telling me I need to be afraid.
afraid to eat
afraid to paint
afraid of muslims
afraid of guns
afraid of religion
afraid of homosexuals
afraid of republicans
afraid of taxes
afraid of each other
the wind moans with me.
it sounds mad,
but actually
it's just the world turning really fast.

s p r i n g

12:34am

in the pasture behind our house

in the bright light of a full pink moon

coyote sits and barks with authority

barks like a dog with a bass note

coming from his belly

climbing to a soprano note

as it reaches for the stars

and then

as in an aria

the voice in chilling refrain

hits the high notes of a

trilling ululation

like worship in the night

like mourning for the life it's taken

like joy for the grass and dew

like breathing ancient rhythms

like a moment standing still

the cool spring evening air

sweetens the night theater as i fall

fast

asleep

intermission

if we have the privilege of seeing

life as a play

in a grand theater of the universes;

if we see God as the producer

and we surrender to Him as the director,

the script will be carried out with a purpose and forethought,

with beautiful nuance and character,

ever orchestrated and choreographed,

with all things connecting and moving

as dancing to one beautiful refrain.

His love.


then,

even in death,

our intermission,

we hold our breath,

waiting for the last and final act

with a climax of glory

that will never again see

the curtain fall.

a n t i c i p a t e

lightbulbs
chicken
potatoes
eggs
tomato juice
blueberry juice
yogurt
pistachios
bagels
the boys are  coming
i'm a little nervous
i'm boring
will there be enough food
i've aged a lot in 2 years
joe is so happy
beer