At 25 degrees (F)
We go outside in socks, no
shoes hats gloves coats mufflers
just sweatshirt and jeans
to do our chores
Take out the trash
Collect the papers
Clean the yard
Sometimes our socks have holes
25 degrees Fahrenheit
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Anniversary
30 years we have been together,
24 years married, a son born and launched,
three parents lost.
Grief and joy both immeasurable,
laughter and tears commingled
in this world we have created, made and made ours.
We surround ourselves with friends, sometimes family, the larger the group the better,
but alone or with others
we are we.
Two and one.
I would not trade this life for any other.
To sleep, perchance…
The twitching of a dog’s foot against my human thigh,
grunting and snuffling and snorting that signal his dreams.
I lie awake, wishing for my own sleep,
but now also knowing
if I’d found it
I would have missed
this
moment. Continue reading
Baubles and thrift
It was 7 degrees F when I got up this morning and let my dogs out in the yard. I had to bundle up in my barn coat and hat to go outside as well because 7 degrees is just too cold to leave dogs out on their own. Paws could freeze. Great sadness would ensue.
A large patch of my wooden deck shimmered with black ice, sprinkled in frosty crystal patterns—my reward for braving the cold. It reminded me of beauty and danger, which made me happy for reasons I can’t quite explain. I even wrote a little nothing of a poem about it. Continue reading
Black slippery dangerous
Black slippery dangerous
ice coats my upper deck
warns me to step carefully through life
at least today
The ice we don’t see threatens us the most
A year of poetry
The changing of the year is a time for both looking back and looking forward. One of the ways I like to look back is by remembering some of the best books I’ve read during the past year. For me, this has been a year with a lot of poetry—and poetry by writers I’ve never before encountered. Continue reading