perspective

Solo Saturday

A solo Saturday morning.

My tired body is strewn across a comfy chair, left leg draped over its soft arm. I’m dragging last night’s sleeplessness in heavy lidded half-mast eye slits, while I languish in my sore throat’s swollen scratchiness and feel sorry for myself for missing a festive friend weekend.

Suddenly, streaming sunbeams from high windows wash my bare legs with warmth and light as our sweet cat purrs nearby.

With a newly buoyed happy heart, my solitary weekend of recuperation and rest ensues.

Illuminating

The way the morning sun comes over the house
Illuminating, actually floodlighting, the tallest lean tree
Guarding the edge of the yard tucked close to the fence
The growing glow marks the morning’s progress
I’m not sure how to capture the spectacular slash of light
Brilliant heat cutting a diagonal across the solid trunk
Late spring mornings I watch this light show play out
The captivating spotlight shifts and dazzles
Lighting up branch after green leaf branch
A focused deliberate crawl of yellow light
Stooping lower, passing across rough bark
Nature’s clock, finally touching grass

Yearning Perfection

The naked figure is perfection in its twisted reaching
Thick solid timber creates parenthesis and crooked
Slingshot shapes arching from the enormous gnarled
Trunk squatting husky while countless tiny branches
Shoot in a thousand divers directions each striving
Wand stretching toward the enormous gray white forever
The exposed hulking giant’s adornment long overdue
Impatiently waiting overwhelming shame percolates
Longing bursting buds yearning luscious leafy green
Pining for change craggy perfection looms insufficient

Phobia 2

She didn’t seem to grasp the concept of a phobia
I shook my head in agreement and laughed
I know when I told her I clipped out on hills
Because I have a hill phobia
She asked me what I feared most
Stalling and falling I’d said
She told me all the reasons that wouldn’t happen
And why I should clip in and push and pull
While she stood while not moving at all
On a hill clipped in and standing and talking
Which left me annoyed while still afraid
My hill phobia and height fear can’t be
Persuaded away by rational argument
They’d be long gone since I’d have
Dissuaded myself from my foolishness
And I’d have stood on top of that dome
Luxuriating in the breathtaking 360 view

Did I mention I’m levelheaded?

Here’s a tip: Trying a new salmon recipe when you know you might have to stop for work in the middle of the prep isn’t the best idea. I’m mostly glad my sisters weren’t here because they’re not fans of raging infernos. Not that I am. Somehow, in retrospect, the olive oil based rub seems like overkill on the already oily fish. My normal Sunday night procedure “put the fish on the grill and prep the rest of the meal” was interrupted by good news about work (YAY!). 10 minutes later the work was finished. It was just a short distraction. And the grill was engulfed in flames. Completely. The temperature gauge on the grill cover was at the max. I don’t know what the number was. Hot. Really, really hot. I sort of calmly reached into the grill cabinet and turned off the gas valve. The flames continued to leap. I called into the house for help. A fire extinguisher. Moral support. Why not pull the black lumps of what had been 2 salmon filets and were now fireballs off the grill? OK…I can do that. The fire’s fuel sources were being eliminated one by one. There were still shooting flames. Like an ocean oil slick the drip pan continued to burn. The fire still raged. Until it died. Finally. Thankfully. I’m grateful to Mr. Weber for making a grill that didn’t explode or set the deck on fire. The avocado salsa was pretty good without any salmon to put under it, by the way.

King of the House

He’s the king of the house
But a patsy outside when
She’s lurking he cowers and
Shrinks dodging pounces
And the screams of attack
Of her clawless friendship
He undoubtedly forgets his
Could cut or slice when
She rolls him twice down
The hill by the pool deck
Defensive is his favorite
Position the second she
Arrives on the other side
Of the door enthusiasm
(or love)
Carries him into the fight
We call her The Interloper

Lonely Late Departure

The judgmental might call her
The Patron Saint of Liars
But to those who knew her
BossyPants was far more accurate
Her determination was unmistakable
And people scurried to clear a path
As she set her destination on
Yosemite by way of The Bean Tree
Lacing one Blue Shoe at a time
She harnessed The Power of Focus
Head down she missed noticing
The shimmering Moon Light in Snow
At her lonely late departure
“I’ll forget My Life So Far”
She thought as she took the
First crunchy unknown step

Today’s poem was prompted by book
titles from a shelf in my house.
There are eight titles included.

Between

Between the car and the house
Forsythia is glowing gold tonight
Stretching the driveway’s length
Enveloping the split rail poking
From the hedge’s rough tawny end
Signaling its yellow days are short

Sad willow laments fading yellow
Casting shadows of grief with
Elegant pistachio whip branches
Dripping invisible soaking tears
Quenching thirsty grass greening
By equal degrees as yellow fades

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