a long way from nowhere

it’s saturday night
and I’m about as
restless as a gray
squirrel burrowing
for winter’s harvest
a glass of coke
and a box of finnish
chocolates are not
cutting it maybe
pen and paper will
kids are on the
computer bond is on
t.v. fifteen days of
it to be precise and
I laugh and think
who in their right
mind needs fifteen
days of james bond
but then who in
their right mind
would do half of
what I do in my
own oblique world
as I stop mid way
up mindshaft’s
ladder drinking in
the view forgetting
which way I'm
going like the
power of wind
upon an open sea
dancing to the sound
of pink not caring
that the ocean is not
really blue or that
the clouds murmuring
amongst themselves
do not always obey
contently enjoying
nonetheless this
warm feeling of
being a long way
from nowhere
knowing full well
that somewhere is
now closer than I
would have imagined

Mikayla

She sat beside me
on the classroom
risers
seemingly meek
and quieter than usual
always as precious
as her name
I wondered for the
first time if she
was merely shy
or afraid of life
as we traced
her name on the
blackboard in our laps
I looked at her in silence
admiring her five year old
petite frame
wide round blue eyes
soft porcelain skin
and fine blond hair
tucked up in a pony tail
tiny gold rimmed glasses
hung from a blue string
around her neck
against the pastel background
of her flowered dress

And as I looked down
at her legs
ruffled white socks and shoes
I was reminded of my
own wear at her age –
dresses and brown
boots with braces
not specifically
my own memory
but one that was told to me
I’ve never recalled them
instead, I must have
strutted my stuff
proudly
as best I could
and never looked down

a wedding and two funerals

It's that time of year again
between birthdays
a month apart
mine and yours
 
mine, I still wait for that
phone call
no matter where you were
who you were with
you'd call to wish your daughter
happy birthday
and I the same for you
 
I remember our wedding
two dads
one putting me in the car
at home
you taking me out
walking me down the aisle
 
laughing as you told us about
knocking on doors that morning
for someone who could
tie your tie
it had been so long
 
we visited your mom that day
wedding party, pictures and all
descending upon extended care
four months later she died
 
as I sat there beside her
looking into her eyes
whispering in her ear
that she was going to be
a great grandma
 
a year later we buried you too
in that same suit
a wedding and two funerals
another stranger
tying your tie
 
I was home with a five month old baby
when Don came home from
work early, 10 am
chain reaction
she called your nephew
he called mom
she called Don
 
forty six years old
you died that night in your sleep
the same evening I had
called to say hello
but you were out
bingo calling for the seniors
 
twenty years old
I still took control
made the calls
planned the funeral
picked out your casket
granite headstone
fought with human resources to
help cover the costs
 
and fourteen years later
finally
I write about it
a wedding and two funerals

yesterday's soup

soup of the day
a spiritless pot of
boiling water
 
floating vegetables
skimming flavors
is boring
tasteless
weak
 
yesterday's soup is a
hearty blend of life
 
potatoes wed carrots
 
celery softens
feathered with noodles
 
lima beans ignite corn
caressed by saffron rice
 
basil dancing with thyme
 
cayenne pepper seductively
pulling too close to the edge
 
I'm rather be a taste of
yesterday's soup
rich
layered
savory
simmered with age
memories
stories
drenched in
sumptuous spice

Chinook Winds

words
of luscious
summer red berry
dipped in
dark
bitter sweet
chocolate
pool at my feet
my toes swirl
splash
tease
their colors up my
soft legs
defying gravity
magnetizing
upward
chinook winds
thoughts of
where I
my mind
ought not to go
since you
are not here
in this
moment
with
me