A Poem for Tchaikovsky

hearing it in my mind,
autumn's song played
on a distant piano-
smooth keys
gently touched
by fingers who have known
many seasons...
the passion of summer,
the desperation of winter,
the hope of spring-
now he strokes the ivory
once again,
telling his tale
of yet another red leaf,
another windy afternoon,
another still morning,
another harvest moon...

goodbye kiss-

soft moonlight touches the last

summer roses.

Morning has come just as it does every other day. It's as if the sun doesn't understand that you're leaving. I stand in the doorway, holding our baby girl. Her warm body, still heavy with sleep, is unable to block the early autumn chill from my bare arms. I feel yours slide around us, enveloping us in what the little one calls a "fam-i-ly hug". Kiss. Kiss. Kiss again. I send up a silent prayer for your safety as the car door closes. Then as quickly as the morning came, you drive away...let the countdown begin.

sun rises

tail lights fade

sun sets

GARAGE SALE

We had a garage sale this morning. My husband, who has never written a poem in his life (except for the ones he was forced to write for a project in the fourth grade) suprised me by writing some haiku! It made my day! I had to help him re-arrange a little because of syllables, but these are his. I thought they were really great! If you are wondering about #2, he is a police officer. #3 is a joke...we sold several books at the sale and he knows that I often use receipts and old photos as book marks...he pretended to be "worried" about someone finding an inappropriate photograph in one of them. He thinks he's SOOOO funny! :) I was very proud of his poetry.


strangers
rummaging, making
a small fortune

familiar cars
familiar faces-people
I've arrested

books new and old
mistakingly hold
a dirty photo

by my husband, Derek (with a tiny bit of assistance from his wonderful wife :)

I tried.

Can't do it.

Brain's empty.

-From the book Love that Dog by my favorite children's/young adult author, Sharon Creech
(This seemed appopriate tonight because it's entirely true... :)

tears and raindrops fall-

your face floods my mind

at midnight

Fall Colors

How can "blue" be somber?
Look at my September sky,
whose cornflower turns to sapphire
with a happy sigh...

How can silence be "golden"?
Listen to my October maple,
whose yellow foliage speaks so loudly
and must be heard...

How can little lies be "white"?
Stand beneath my November moon
whose pure, clear light shines down
revealing all that's true...

abandoned tricycle

falls victim to the wind-

first day of autumn

collision

in the night sky

of rain and thunder-

passionate encounter

leaves me breathless...

twenty-seven years
tucked away inside...
the three in me wants to be held
the fourteen in me wants to pull away
the nine in me wants to show off
the five in me wants to run and hide
the twenty-two in me wants to feel settled
the eighteen in me wants to be free
the sixteen in me wants to feel that first kiss
the twenty-five in me wants it to feel like the last
the twenty-seven in me realizes
that all of these make all of me...

daytime fades,
leaving me to dream beside
your cold pillow-
December will be
warmer this year...

mid-September rain

cools the night with its song-

season's overture

a few amber leaves

soften the path

for bare feet-

trying to remember

where I put my boots...

touching you

for the millionth time-

tasting new wine...

(for my husband)

Rainy Saturday Playlist

voices

some smooth as velvet,

others like rustling leaves-

speaking to me,

singing to me,

preaching to me,

soothing the child in me...

melodies

hovering in the breeze,

like soft, jasmine scent-

breaking me,

holding me,

healing me,

enveloping me with each crescendo...

beats

in rhythm with the rain,

the syncopation in my soul-

rocking me,

thrilling me,

moving me,

taking me to that place...

I sit and wait,
wondering about the unknown,
the next step-
So much of life is anticipating
what is to come.
Waiting...
for him to come home,
for test results,
for two pink lines,
for the weekend,
for time off and time away...
but time doesn't stop-
We wait, but it marches on,
steps never wavering...
The relentless beat
forcing me to ask myself,
am I missing out
on life waiting for it to begin?
Is it not during those little "intermissions"
that we feel the most?
the most anguish,
the most excitement.
Perhaps if we would learn how to wait,
then we could discover how
to live.

caressing

my skin-

cool rain

local weatherman

speaks of thunderstorms

on the horizon-

no sleep in my forecast,

waiting for tomorrow's rain

secret passageway

in the dusty corner of

my mind-

old melody reveals

a forgotten room...

I smile and sigh,
keeping it to myself
once again-
a woman's heart
is a deep well.

colors swirl-

seeing the world through her eyes,

each frog is a prince

(Original artwork by my 3-year-old...she has a deep love for all of God's tiny creatures, but frogs are her favorite. She told me that this is a frog stuck on the window. The colorful part is the frog and all the gray is the window. This just made me smile. I love to see the world through her lens of wonder.)

Moonlight Sonata

echoes from

an old radio-

you break my heart

again and again...

just before dawn,

birds greet the gray morning

in softest song-

first movement,

pianissimo

distant train

breaks the silence and

my concentration-

thoughts now heading north

on a one-way track...

midnight waltz

of words...swinging, dancing,

gently swaying words-

writing by lamplight

with my thesaurus

soaking

in moonlight-

leaves in the birdbath

so many words...

none of them necessary-

he speaks for himself

oh September...

you have crept in,

leaving only

the ghost of summer, and

stealing my heart once again