Life

Resilience of Daffodils

Please explain dear mother the havoc you have dropped
Eighty on Saturday Fifty on Sunday Snow on Tuesday
Me in heavy overcoat past April tax day feeling ninety
Sporting dull winter colors as we race toward summer

The resilience of daffodils still standing after typhoon
Torrents rain down drenching buckets from emptying
Clouds on fragile yellow petals still blinking eyes open
Admonishing ceaseless complaints by grumpy humans
With less flexibility than fleeting soggy yellow flowers

“Buck up chilly humans,” says the heartless mother
“If this is the worst thing you have to adjust to, you
Clearly have no idea how lucky you are today. Consider
A little delay and lagging warm temperatures a tiny
Sample of the pandemonium I have in my repertoire“
A lightening bolt and thunder clap exclamation point
Flashes bright and booms loud as she walks away

Whale Tails

They were everywhere that cloudy evening
Gasping dusk beauty in every direction
Straight up vertical geyser sprays
Interspersed with barnacle covered
Dripping wet tails gracefully curved
Before the perfect Greg Louganis dive
Sucking a churning watery sink hole
Disappearing black with random white spots
Nature’s quiet clear reminder that even
Quintessential beauty is blemished

Your Fine Life

Don’t fly too long under the radar.
Your fine life is impatiently waiting.
It’s true. (Believe it). You’re missed.

There’s also real truth here:
Deep jagged wounds need light and air to fully heal.
This other truth is also real:
Unsightly heart scars are as inevitable as death.

The time will come when you look
Into your own precious core and
Rejoice at jagged beauty darned whole.
And rejoice at a reconstructed heart.

Fender Bender Festival

The weather is perfectly spring, finally warm in yellow and pink,
Combined with Friday and it’s a traffic jam and fender bender
Festival with turtle slow lines of window open cars slowly inching.
Daffodils and cherry blossoms in bright sun apparently impair driving.

I turned from the office in plenty of time for my morning appointment
Onto the highway with one clear mile before hitting multiples of brake light
Red and a snaking line of impatience and heat and loud music and lip-syncing.
My creeping minutes were spent recalculating likely late arrival times.

At the 20-minute mark I made the call I won’t be there today please meet
Without me I’ll get the story later. “Thank you” with fire truck flashing lights
In sight. Up the hill slowly I inched past the crunched grey Prius, taking my
Rubber necking turn then speeding for an unplanned Smoothie King lunch.

The afternoon was summer hot with small breezes and puffy pollen clouds.
My last meeting was at 4:15 but I was early and settled in to relax and wait.
I waited. And waited. Those poor people traveling the interstate from Philly
With the beach bound in mass-exodus in this first spring beautiful weekend.

Triple travel time clocked but cheerful smiles disembarked and greeted me
Despite their time in slow moving lines of finger tapped steering wheels.
“Take your time” I said “enjoy your visit” I suggested and savored the reminder
Of the “empty boats” wisdom story by these blithe good-natured travelers.

Broadway Day

Crack of dawn
Sisters
Train Station
Amtrak
Coffee
Big Apple
Crowded streets
High Line
Ramon with pork and egg
Cursed Child (Part 1)
Hogwarts
Albus & Scorpius
Friendship & love
Fathers
Hermione & Ron
Calamari & Eggplant Parmesan
Cursed Child (Part 2)
Souvenir T-shirts
Fiery Effects
Death Eaters & Dementors
Baby Harry’s Pram
Mother’s love
Fathers & Sons
Standing ovation
Curtain Calls
Hot Fudge Sundaes
7 miles
Hotel Pillows

My Heart’s Desire

Who knew that a gondola ride was my heart’s desire? The day trip to Venice was completely unplanned. Our Florence guide was adamant we must take the 2 hour train ride to experience the unique and beautiful and watery. His advice was good. I was transfixed the second I stepped out of the station and took in the Grand Canal. On the crowded water taxi my singular thought crystalized. My obsession became a perfect glide with a handsome young gondolier wearing the classic striped shirt and jaunty straw hat with the voice of Perry Como crooning Italian love songs while we held hands under a scratchy wool blanket. No busy tourist corner would do. No scruffy wool capped gondolier chomping cigar stub in shabby shirt stretched across his bulging belly for me. Mine would be a solo practitioner tucked in the corner of a lovely square with uneven stone steps down to his boat. We crossed scenic bridges with flowered draped window boxes scouring the corners for my perfect pilot. Was he really illuminated by a single beam of light in the center of a brick square? Waiting for me?

Perfection. A plastered grin from ear to ear was my entire face. An unknown dream come true gliding among glorious teal doors and wrought iron rails and shabby balconies with t-shirts drying. The lilting croon danced across the water. Who knew a gondola ride was my heart’s desire?

Maine Memory

The bridge rumbled loud above our heads
As we scoured rocky Maine tidepools
Seeking starfish amidst the copious golden kelp
Flipping stones, scaling boulders, puddle jumping
Searching for life signs beneath clinging shells
Slip-sliding our way nearer the churning sea

Mist not rain dampened our slickers and
Fogged my glasses, wiping away drops while
Seeking the five pointed cherished prize
A champion photo op of the highest degree
All the time knowing while precariously climbing
The full emersion exploration is our actual joy

Too Tired to Stand

“Are energy issues at your business impacting your bottom line?” said the commercial on the radio.

Immediately I imagine a disheveled worker, round shouldered and shuffling, head downcast and eyes half closed. A human cheese curl with tousled hair. Thinking more about napping than deadlines, his shirt tail is half untucked, and not in a cool way. An important paper dangles from his fingers, begging not to be dropped. He’s reminiscent of the the humans in the movie Wall-E but in white shirt and mussed khakis. The worker of my imagination can still walk, but barely. The Wall-E people were apparently permanently affixed to movie theater recliners in full recline; the red jump-suited roly-polies floated supine in their loungers without the strength or energy to stand or walk. My mind’s eye energy-issue worker isn’t quite such a marshmallow; he leans whenever there is the opportunity but so far isn’t too tired to stand. But he’s close.

All this jumbles through my mind in the seconds it takes for the announcer to get from the words “bottom line” to a suggestion that Philadelphia Electric will do an energy audit to help reduce office energy usage. I realize with a half-smile that I conjured my entire cartoon imagery for nearly nothing (but fun).

I’m slightly saddened too at the realization that there isn’t a solution for the low-energy office worker shuffling exhaustion and pushing papers through his day.

Home

On this side a bird’s eye view of sunrise
Soaked brown mountains with sharp black
Shadow lines and watercolor pools of
White liquid clouds forming streams
And lakes between angular peaks.

On that side a large plaid shirted stranger,
Head tilted back with wide gaping mouth
Emitting high decibel snores battling for
Dominance over the engine’s modulating hum.

Between the cloudy mountains and the sleeping
Giant we two huddle, shuffling phone photo
Memories in a sleep deprived stupor while
Silently counting down miles in hours as the
Eastward jet stream ushers us toward

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