Summer Goodbyes

Constant waves of crickets’ rhythmic singing an unwelcome yet
Sweetly maudlin harbinger heralding cooler breezes crisp blue skies
Suggesting an end of glistening teal-blue pool days a solitary slowly
Floating gold leaf tired of heat spirals to rest on inviting still soft grass

Enduring lavender butterfly bushes draw tenacious fluttering swarms
Cobalt black cream injured saffron wings clinging to remaining days
Agitated buzzing bees collude conspire to disrupt the final summer
Gathering with lazy frantic threats of stinging pain or phobic trauma

Anxious young hearts pound the most melancholy seasonal barometer
Vying for separation disconnection hauling crates making narrow
Long beds hanging carefully selected posters introducing defining a
Particular self with expectations overwhelming sentimental goodbyes

Vacation

A long 3-movie plane ride
Watching 3 back-to-back made
The trip fly by…ha. The start of
A two-week vacation begins
Work still swirling swirling head full
Hope determined to disengage relax
Enjoy a real break for family love
Zoo and beach days Rubio’s and
Jamba nostalgia (a much cooler
Place to grow up than mine-sorry
Charcoal Pit) Torrey Pines nature
Quietly amazing later Yosemite
Cabin hikes photos home cooking
Superb and delicious granite peaks
Grandeur surrounds valley biking
Tuolumne ascending flowers delight
Calling me though small amidst
All that is awe-inspiring and imposing
Tiny beauty is here look down at
The purple, white, not all beauty is up

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Balboa Park Botanical Garden

Yosemite’s Cathedral Lake Hike

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View from Cathedral Lake Trail

The rugged ascending hike was difficult for me
The mountain views were breathtaking to me
The rocky climb was glorious and grueling for me
My love stealthily slowed her pace for me

The rock face sprouting pines was amazing to me
The surrounding jagged craggy rockiness dazed me
The sight of Cathedral Lake was dazzling to me
The water lapped granite slab made a bed for me

The quiet breezy rest was reinvigorating for me
The magical lake was crystal clear for me
The gracious granite peaks cast a shadow on me
The majestic pines stood tall in the wind for me

The descent was quicker and sublime for me
The granite dome faces smiled in the sunlight for me
The trailhead marker was a wistful relief for me
The memory of that High Sierra Lake brings a smile to me

View from Cathedral Lake Trail

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View from Cathedral Lake

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Lower Cathedral Lake

Flower Rainbow

flowers white background In Celebration of Marriage Equality – June 26, 2015

Love Wins

Sitting in a Starbucks’ parking lot
A Venti flat white steaming beside me
The words appeared on my phone
“Marriage Equality Wins!”
My emotions, spontaneous, overflowing
Tears then sobs overwhelm
A wave of vindication
Pride, relief, acceptance, and equality
Not too much to ask but a long time coming
Finally, everywhere
Joy Gratitude Happiness
Love Wins

Summer Guest

Spring beginnings (and endings) measured in flowers
Hello spring daffodils flash of attentive brilliant yellow
Beautiful proud troubadour stiff cup of sun stalk weakens
Bends yellow fades to gold, too soon brown a memory
Of the new dazzling dizzying hope of spring beginnings

Spring (beginnings and) endings measured in flowers
Peony buds emerge a ball of suggestive color richest fuchsia
Palest pink, faint salmon, rich creamy white bursting balls
Glorious fluff thousands of silken layers blur in glory dip
Under weight petals too soon wilting, fading snowy ending

Summer beginnings and endings measured in flowers
Hydrangeas tease a slow arrival thousands of Lilliputian
Buttermilk buds band together one perfectly ringed orb
Periwinkle violet blush in flux soothing warmth spreading
Canopy of color settling staying welcome long summer guest

Nurture Nature

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Meandering paths among orchestrated beds
Beautifully photogenic flowers intentionally
Arranged create perfectly balanced canvas
Scarlet behind palest peach cream contrast
Surprises excites explodes the open heart 

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Nature’s stark arrangement accidental disarray
Rutted path crosses rickety bridge fallen
Logs haphazard placement of curious yellow
Occasional purple scattered branches trip
Clouds burst above lushest green canopy

Time

In an article I read today people over 50 discussed
Their feelings about death. The article mentioned Steve
Jobs’ death. Me: “There is no way Steve Jobs died in 2011”
If you had asked me how much time had passed I’d have said
A year, maybe eighteen months. My takeaway: It’s time, not
Death we should be talking about. They (THEY) have always said
Time passes faster the older you get. Run a mile on a quarter
Mile track. That first lap takes forever. Like a five year
Old waiting for Christmas. The last flies by. Like the time
between birthdays for an 80 (no…now 81) year old. Time
Is measured in perspective. Time, not death, is the quandary.

For optimistic 50 year olds at their halfway point and now
Over that half-century hump, the passing of time terrifies,
Confuses, horrifies. But nobody is talking. When it’s the same
Time distance from 80 as from 35, and 35 was just yesterday…
Still, time’s passing accelerates. Scary. Unnerving. Exponential.
When I was young the middle aged warned me time will start
Rushing by. Deaf ears. A friend captioned a photo of her son’s
College graduation “My parents said it would be here in an
Instant.” It was Christmas last week. Now the trees
Are in full leaf and somehow it’s summer. Halloween is
Just a week away in three minutes we’ll be counting down to
Another Christmas, a new year. Happy New Year. Again. So fast.

What is the anectode to rushing time, wooshing past at
Sci-fi movie speed? Is it the day? Is it the moment?
Years roar by but a day can last a lifetime. Let it last a
Lifetime. Embrace the day. Wallow in the moment.
Kids (me, just last week) sleep until noon, but those
Who know are mostly up with the sun. Marvel at the early
Morning light, the cool air. Commit to linger over coffee,
To plan a day with anticipation. A treasure chest of hours
Stretch. The minutes tick. The hours invite. A day’s
memories beacon, putting brakes on the breakneck
Speed of time’s passing. Good morning, welcome new day.

Pierre Morning

Pierre the cat was my alarm clock this morning
Like every morning 5:20 AM the onslaught
Starts not so much a ringing siren as a carefully
Thought out plan like a military exercise first
Comes peering into my face from the maximum
6-inch distance his blurry face maybe a mirage
But no next he’s gently touching my cheek then
Forehead with mostly clawless kindly placed
Paw pats I’m determined today to ignore but
Rub his cinnamon paws scratch under his chin
As a sign I’m not happy with this early morning
Attention though sometimes I’ll stoically pull
The sheet over my head to show I’m serious
About sleep but the next step is the most peculiar
He circles around behind me and combs through
My hair like Gore Vidal with partially extended
Comb claws to tenderly untangle a perfectly sized
Clump to bite a tug yes that’s right he pulls my
Hair in a choreographed dance that includes light
Claw scratches on skull followed by tugging a
Mouthful sized lock this entire routine’s endgame
Is a trip to the kitchen to fill his bowl with a quarter
Cup of kibble then hurry back to bed before fully alert
Love this short-lived dozy lull enjoy while it lasts
As now Pierre (and his satisfied belly) moseys back
Silently springs then hovers to pat my face again
“Don’t you want your coffee now?” he implores
In squeaking Pierre talk not a meow but a squeak
“Have you ever known a cat to squeak?” I ask
“I’ve never met a cat like Pierre” is the reply
As his completely relaxed baby cradled body
Rumbles in a purr fest and I kiss his forehead

Answers

“You can let me know…oh, right… “ I start a Google search
“You can look it up right now. What was I thinking?”
Said my 86-year-old mom when we were talking about,
Well, it could have been almost anything. I’m always
Checking, confirming I’m correct or learning I’m wrong.

Either way it’s the information at hand seconds away
Never a delay I love being able to look it up. Find out
Anything. Read about everything. Last week I confirmed
That Meryl Streep is in her 60s (she’s 65) when someone
(My sister) thought she is 70. Information is always

Available never far away no need for patience, or a
Card catalogue, an encyclopedia (though as a kid I loved
The “D” Britannica with its dog breed pictures) I like being
Right and knowing when I’m not my phone confirms or
Denies in a blink of an eye no arguments facts are great