Wednesday, April 15, 2015

First Picking

The wooden water wheel is gone
so the stream rushes down a worn slope
splashing under a board bridge.


Beneath a cedar,
yellow blooms
lean into the sunshine.

A softness in the air,
not felt in months,
makes breathing a joy.

Vases are waiting in the kitchen
to be filled with the first picking
of the season’s jonquils.  

Baby green grass and
the dog running freely
resonate the sweetness of spring.

























Friday, April 3, 2015

Generational

Her four year old self
sat hidden on the stairway.
Flower sprigged dress
pulled over her knees,
face in a pout.
Chastised for something-
swatting her little brother,
not eating her peas.
Some small transgression
put her in a sulk.

Reminiscent of another young girl
two generations back
who wouldn’t eat her oatmeal.
Her mouth washed out with soap
for calling her sister a ‘pot licker.’
Remanded to her room,
spilling tears.

Both little girls feeling
nothing was right
with the world
until it was right.
The lip finding its
correct position.
The anger fading,
then hugs of forgiveness
wiping the slate clean.