All summer long, my neighbor’s porch blossomed.
Now those morning glories, sweet faced and blue,
stop their perpetual climb, turn shocked faces
to stare out at the transformed world.
Bare trees, sidewalks covered in skittering leaves,
and their own porch perch surrounded
by pumpkins and paper ghosts.
Yesterday, a fabric witch appeared.
Waiting to see what happens next,
tiny blue faces shiver.
Scary Story, Morning Glory
Define Distracted Driving
When the handwritten cardboard sign
at the side of the road
turns out not to say
Quiet Shrimp
which is what I read
and spent hours trying to picture
as I drove away from that particular mystery.
Only much later, on the way home,
did I discover it actually said
Quilt Shop
which is likely accurate
but much less fun.
Wild Lilies of July
The orange lilies of July
sudden and unplanned
startling as miracles
are long gone now.
The next act appears:
Autumn wildflowers
star in this season’s hit
side of the road show.
Leaving Home
When you stand at the opened
refrigerator door and tell me
there is nothing to eat,
I clamp my mouth closed
over the next line, the one
where I list the contents of
the rapidly warming shelves.
There is no fruit at all, you prompt,
since I seem to have forgotten my line,
certain I won’t be able to resist.
And you’re right.
Blackberries, pineapple,kiwi, grapefruit,
bananas, I list—
All things you can see, too.
You sigh, relieved
to be on familiar ground
the kitchen, your kitchen again.
but no strawberries, you say, no grapes, no oranges.
One more week till you go back to college.
Pocket-Dialed
Restless truths
prowl the house
at all hours
leaving me signs–
dreams of golden
retrievers who can talk
and phone messages
from my mysterious girl
crying too hard to speak.
The Sailor Formerly Known As Student
Done with basic training,
a week before he ships out,
he visits us at his old school
crew cut and a camera.
I want pictures of everything, he says—
teachers, cafeteria, library, courtyard, walls,
Books, of course. And the road I live on,
my house, my family, our yard, trees in autumn.
I think of him far out at sea,
with his few carefully chosen books,
and his plentiful photos,
scrolling through his world,
watching maple leaves change
where leaves have never been before
while the ocean swells and wonders
how something so small
captures all this attention.
Weight Watchers For Worries
The Big Worries
hog all the space in my brain:
Kids, money, work, madmen with axes
crouching in the basement.
Today, treat them like rude and chubby
house guests, intruders with
lousy manners. Today, teach them not
to squeeze out all the other tiny worries—
Will frost nip the mums?
Does this outfit make me look fat?
Is there tea left in the pot?
Let them come, the little
inconsequential worries. Give them room
to breathe. Soon enough, their clamor
might make me long for the good old days
when worries were fat but few.
At The Mall With My Son
When you were small,
we came here so little
you thought Santa lived
at the mall all year.
Now, taller than me,
an errand for a friend
brings us to this alien territory
where people look like us
except with better hair
and many shopping bags,
tissue paper wrapped
around their treasures.
I’m glad I hate it here.
And glad you hate it too—
glad you carry all your treasures
unwrapped and close to your heart,
spilling from your musical hands,
and your easy smile.
Missing
There’s so little we must Accept in this life—
mostly we can buy or talk, laugh or walk or learn our way
to what we want to know.
But not Everything, not Always.
Sometimes, you don’t get to Know.
Sometimes, the children’s favorite pet
disappears in the night
and never comes home again.
Here you are.
Another step
into the Spirit Life.
You are here.
Another glimpse
Into The Way the World Really Is.
What you thought would be a window
turns out to be a door.
And the door is closed.
And the door is locked from the other side.
Root System
Picture trees—
How the roots (they say)
Extend down into the ground
An equal distance
To what we see reaching up
above us
Try this as another instructive way
To think about people:
How our memories, our passions,
Our worries, our loves
Fill up invisible ground within us
History that keeps us upright
Standing as best we can
In this world.
Puff Of Smoke Poems 