It is April 2nd and it is snowing.
I walk to the subway to go to work and try to turn the mess of things I feel into words, into calm before I walk back into the hurricane.
The snow dusts my hair and I am lucky,
Winter hasn’t quite left yet and I breathe best when it’s cold.
I wonder when change comes in this whirlwind of white.
Spring is waiting and I wait for it.
I watch the trees outside move in the breeze.
Their new blossoms flow lazy and smooth.
This month moves faster than I ever thought it could,
And for the first time I do not look into the mouth of that lion called change,
As May ushers itself in.
Life is long and short,
And springtime is here in all it’s glory before I’ve really bid winter goodbye.
I watch the very first blooms of bleeding hearts in the backyard sway in the wind.
They are me, beautiful in our imperfection.
Hot spring nights,
The world is flowers and pollen.
I walk down suburban streets and think of you.
I don’t know why my mind comes back,
Why you knowing me as I am is something I want to hold on to.
My thoughts jumble at the bottom of the bottle.
I wonder if I’ve had too much wine tonight.
Ode to My Mother
There is a woman I know.
She is brave, and she is beautiful.
Her hair looks like mine,
Her eyes see mountains when the days are foggy.
Her hands are my branches and her arms are my harbor,
I see her in spring daffodils, in rainbows, in sunny skies.
She walks with a courage along the road,
Gives me a path to follow.
When I am strong, I see her spirit in me.
Life is a box of tissues.
Tulips are here,
And the sun sets on Myrtle Avenue.
Cherry blossoms line the walks of the botanical garden.
This time, I see the flowers that bloom in adversity,