She could never trust the birch
sitting right out her window.
Peeling his layers,
showing his inner self.
A mocking introspection
that she could never give.

They grow
features change.
Limbs become longer.
Knees and wrist
joints expand
to bare the weight of a body.  
Watching these changes
we are somehow side-lined.
We are just a witness.

It is so easy to get wrapped up
in other's passion.
To join their arguments.
To find your gut twisting
with their voice.
You can't separate the line
where their feelings end.
And your's begin.

It is very certain
that at least once in your life
you will act like an asshole.
Because you can't hold your tongue.
You speak out of turn.
You question.
The minor cause
becomes your moment
to truly shine.
Because in a small way
we are all assholes;
some just let it show more.

Winters are starting to feel 

like the ultimate deja vu 

now that I am older.  

Because white is white 

and cold is cold.  

And I can't hold onto the idea 

that this weather is enjoyable.  

Mostly the cold is just painful.  

I have written about this before, 

the ultimate 'been there-done that'. 

I write in the circle of the seasons. 

music

I think the greatest poetry is a lyric.
A song by someone
Who feels each word.
And adds the melody.
"Listen to the lyrics,"
I tell the children.
Because if you can go beyond the beat
If you leave the noise
Really feel the rhythm
of what is being said.
And felt.
There is no greater.

My favorite right now 

"And you'll find somebody you can blame And you'll follow the creek that runs out into the sea And you'll find the peace of the Lord." ~The Middle East 'Blood'

Words, Fail.

 2015, write more.
Because at one time
 I loved it.
 I needed it.  
Words were a life blood.
They pumped through me.
Kept me alive
A heart
 A way to connect to something.
 Anything.
 It wasn't about being great.
 Or even good.
My fragments were the pieces
 that connected me.
To myself.
With myself.

A Love Like That

Way she shows me I'm hers and she is mine Open hand or closed fist would be fine The blood is rare and sweet as cherry wine

Hozier - Cherry Wine

8-3-14

1. Realize my children are getting older.
2. Finish Laundry
3. Yoga
4. Walk outside barefoot.
5. Wear pants that snap.
6. Put on the real perfume.

I could easily distract my children from seeing 'naughty' things when we watch T.V. or a movie.  A quick redirect.  A slight of hand.  A circled explanation of a questionable moment.
Paper in hand, a lick and quick roll I knew what the actor was doing.  "Oh bad boy rolling his own cigarette tsk-tsk." I said half-explaining the illegal activity, drawing attention away.
 "Mom that's really weed" he said.

“Growing up is losing some illusions, in order to acquire others.” ― Virginia Woolf

Keeping Time

I am realizing that I am older, and more feeble of mind.  I am having to write and journal all the things I have to do and that are done.  I have to keep calendar.  I can no longer remember hair appointments and planned activities.  I find myself confusing days and mixing up times.  'Oh that was today'.  Those words pass my lips so easily these days.  A calendar for my purse must match up with the one on the fridge.  Appointment cards are for the young.  I did through the bottomless purse to find my lifeline.  Then I must go home and coordinate again.  

  

sunny day

I woke up the kids yesterday and they complained about the snow and the cold.  And throughout the day I heard all the random comments about the endless winter.  And sometimes I found myself complaining of the chill and the wind.  

I live in a spot where winter in April is not unheard of.  Springs are short, summers are humid and winters drag on beyond anyone and everyone's expectation.  We are all done.  DONE!! With this weather and this winter.  

The ground is so frozen that we might have to wait to plant and mow and put water in the pools etc. etc.  The cold set so deep in the ground that all Spring activities are on hold and that will spill over into summer.  Our outside lives are on hold. 

Tulips for Easter will not be a thing this year. 

Daffodils in May.  

Tomatoes planted in June.  

Don't count on a big harvest, plan accordingly.   

Pray for an Indian Summer.  

Dream of a vortex that doesn't swoop down and brittle our bone next year.

Dream.

Dream of a warm and sunny day.