May 8, 2020
I see your eyes in the skies.
Your words in the letter were bursting.
With promise.
And knowledge.
Care. For another.
Where do I source this?
To move toward the hand.
To push into looking?
To ask,
How are you (really) today?
And stay for the answer.
I work to stay with you.
I listen, leave and wake up to my leaving.
I re-arrive to your brilliance.
And I know that it’s golden
To be with Us long enough.
To see your sky.
May 1, 2020
In this time of Covid-19
My mornings have become so beautiful.
It's part spring: birdsong symphonies, open doors,
The only natural silence of these long days.
My outer voice at rest.
Inner voice alive and awake, hearing and seeing.
Remembering dreams, ideas and middle of the night thoughts.
Slow.
Not hurried by the hurrying
In slippers. Coffee steams at my side.
Like the vapor trails of shallow fog I saw on the lake
yesterday.
Swirling in dance as if to greet the sunrise.
Fewest cars on the road.
No school to scurry to.
At least on the outside.
Even the trail walkers stay in.
Not a human in sight.
Other than this one. And you.
April 28, 2020
On the other side of this
There will be a knowing
A detail of memory
A story we tell
To ones who aren’t here
On the other side of this you are taller,
Quieter
Grateful for the life we have.
You will know the sweetness of
Being together.
On the other side of this I will
Bring some of this with me.
Silence.
Stillness.
Being in love
With the place where I am.
And not because there is no where else to go,
Rather a knowing
I am here.
I will bring a braveness
To the future,
A willingness to say more.
Leaving nothing unsaid.
Even
This
Poem.
April 13
At Home with Baker, 13
I watched you lap me.
This time we have is slow
Enough for me to see
You growing.
It wasn’t in weeks,
Or a sudden arrival.
It was slow motion.
I see the way you’re growing into
Yourself.
Taller.
More confident.
I watched you lap me.
Just a smidge above 5’10”.
I saw it happen.
A lovely rare privilege of
Being near you.
Soon I will be looking up to you.
And I already do.
April 9, 2020
Home-School
Lizard in the kitchen.
In residence.
Scrabble on the Dining room table.
Puzzle, too.
Puppy on the couch.
Community spread.
Daily live-cooking shows.
Just leave that there.
I’ll clean it up.
Tomato “soup” smeared on the pantry floor.
From a shoe.
“You can clean the blender by turning it on with soap and water,
Mom!”
Fills fully.
Can’t find the chicken bone we gave the dog.
Can’t find a few things.
Like silence.
Bedtime.
The homework hour.
And the Air Pods the dog chewed on.
March 25, 2020
And for a moment I forgot.
The cascade of color on the lake
Distracted me.
Or drew me.
Held me, as if to say,
I’m here.
And I remembered.
A catch in my throat.
A worry.
And, my breath drew me,
Held me, as if to say,
I’m here.
And I remembered.
But when? And who? And how?
Am I safe?
And I see you here,
You draw me,
You hold me.
I’m here, too.
