Friday, June 30, 2017

Two years

I always took delight in pulling the grapevines off the crab apple. Alas, no longer,

Two years
Since the grapevines
Were pulled off the crab apple
I thought I could
Pull them now
My beloved waited
For my call
As I sat
On the ground
Pulled me up
By my belt
Grass stains
On my knees
We laughed
Two years
From now
We’ll do it again.

Thursday, June 29, 2017

We are more than weathered

Water in the bedroom.

We are weathered
More than weathered
There are two buckets
In the bedroom
Drip drip drip
Drip drip
Is an interesting
We are weathered
More that weathered.

Monday, June 26, 2017

Warm bones

We live with two cats, an old gray tabby and a young calico. When the tabby yowls, the calico makes sure to check on him. She is also the one who keeps the cat box clean.

The big gray tabby
On occasion
Finds his way
We need a ranch for him
As well.
Yesterday my beloved
Carried him downstairs
So he could be close
To food and water
And litter.
Then he climbed
Back to bed
In the living room.
His voice
Is still strong.
We hear him
The house.
Now he sleeps
In the sun
It warms
His bones.

Saturday, June 24, 2017

What will happen

Word is we will be getting some sort of new BCP in 2018. I wonder if the Eucharist will not be in the middle of the Book?

What will happen
If the psalms leave
The Book of Common Prayer?
No longer the rubrics
Which tell us
What to read
On what day
Of the month?
Will they still be numbered
As my first husband
So he knew
What to read
Will they be there
At all?

Friday, June 23, 2017

Our home is filled with birds

In memory of Thomas Sadler Roberts

Our home is filled
With birds.
No surprise here.
Curlews and crows
Water birds
A loon
In the dining room
Never too many birds.
My great grandfather
Would be proud.
He knew the birds
Now replaced
By the Mall
Of America.
He knew the birds
Of Minnesota
Before the Metrodome
Was built.
Our home is filled
With birds.
We remember him.

Thursday, June 22, 2017


Childhood memories

I was always the iron
My brother the race car.
We moved
At the same speed.
He usually bought
Board Walk
And Park Place
Put hotels everywhere
I moved more slowly
Did not pass Go
As often
I was the iron
My brother
The race car.
I do not remember
What piece
My sister had
Or the speed
She went
Or the number of houses
She built
Or how many times
She passed Go.

Wednesday, June 21, 2017


Nests are made from all kinds of things. I have never seen a wire nest.

We have not repaired
The screen.
The wires dangle
Odd angles.
Strange pieces hang.
The goldfinch has found
For her nest.
We wonder what kind
Of nest
This will be.
The goldfinch
Is delighted.
What wonder is this.
What eggs
Will this protect.

Monday, June 19, 2017

Today is my day

Today is a solitary day. We all need them. I may even pull some rhubarb.

It’s not quite cloudy
The sun goes in
And out
Sky is blue and white
And gray
Now the birds proclaim sun
The cats
Move with it
The way cats do.
Today is my day.
I will pull weeds
Clip extra mulberries
Decide who
To call in
To do the rest.
Today is my day.
I am glad.

Sunday, June 18, 2017


I am still processing my February "adventure." Many people had a part to play. I remember some of them. I do not remember others. 

The neighbor next door
Rescued me.
I remember only
It was a man
I do not know.
I went to the hospital
With sepsis
In the end I remember
I might have died.
It seems
All the neighbors
Were called upon.
Of course
I do not remember
Which ones
Except the one friend
Who told me
I bumped myself
Down the stairs
In a stunning way.
I’m glad
Was stunning.

Saturday, June 17, 2017


I am hung up on poetry being accessible. I know accessibility is probably in the mind and heart of the reader.

There are poets
Who write indecipherable
They are often
In the annals
Of the Library of Congress
Or even beyond.
The poems
Do not echo
Anyone else’s
I wish I understood
The accolades.
I do not.
I am not
Anyone else.

Friday, June 16, 2017

Rhubarb for free

My family would tease me about all the rhubarb in the freezer. I moved from making sauce, to freezing it for later. Now it's back there waiting.

There is rhubarb
Back there
I cannot harvest.
There is rhubarb
For anyone who loves
I will make you
Iced tea
Sit a spell
Or not.
Take the rhubarb home
Make pie or sauce.
Rhubarb for free.
Ready to harvest.

Thursday, June 15, 2017

Nine goats

I can picture the goats and the donkey, smiling.

Nine goats
And a miniature donkey
Are at work
In Pittsburgh.
They clear underbrush
From a local park.
Nine goats,
A miniature donkey.
They eat their way
Through the park.
I imagine they smile.
When they are done
There will be more land
To clear.
Nine goats
A donkey.
Then there will be more
To munch.

Monday, June 12, 2017


Our thirty year old box turtle died this morning. We sit Shiva. We are sad. Goodbye Felix.

We sit Shiva
For Felix
The turtle who made it
To thirty
On blueberries
Some dogfood
And recently
Red wigglers.
We sit Shiva
For Felix
Now dead.
It is right
To remember

Sunday, June 11, 2017

To return

This feels odd. I know it's not just tea vs. coffee. The last major adventure in the hospital I gave up coffee because it was wretched hospital hardly seemed worth it. Now we're back to coffee.

We still return.
How long will it take?
We drank tea
After cup
Of tea.
Now it’s back
To coffee.
We still return.
We do not know
How long
It will take
To return
To really

Friday, June 9, 2017

East to west

The last time we went to Europe I don't remember this particular difficulty. Yet, this time, here it is.

We practice the return.
Our body clocks
Are somewhere in Labrador
By now.
When they will arrive
In Chicago
Is too soon
To tell.
A friend tells us
It is always easier
Traveling east
Than traveling west.
We creep west.
We wait to return

Thursday, June 8, 2017


I realize I might have called this "tides" but it occurred to me I might want to call something else by that name. Since this is directly tied to the trip to Lindisfarne which spellcheck tells me is not a word, I figured it needed its own space. The island of Lindisfarne is beautiful, well worth another visit, and then another.

No one really lives
On Lindisfarne.
The tides go in,
The tides go out.
The tour buses arrive,
They leave
With the tides.
No one really lives
On Lindisfarne,
Save perhaps the solitary fisherman
Or two,
The scone lady
And her husband,
The gardener.
The tides go in,
The tides go out.
The tour buses
Honor the schedule.
We hear of one lady
Left behind.
The tides
Wait for no one.
This is the way
With tides.

Wednesday, June 7, 2017

Are we there yet?

This is not the first time in the course of this travail that I have asked the question. I suspect it will also not be the last.

He says
I’m doing better
But not better enough
To drop a medication.
I ask
He smiles and says
We’ll consider it
In four or five years.
I feel like the child
In the backseat
Of the car.
Are we there yet?
Are we there yet?
How about now?
Not yet.
Four years
Five years
A million years.
Are we there yet?

Tuesday, June 6, 2017

My kith, my kin

I did not write while in Europe. It seemed I would lose something if I did. I wanted to pay attention in a different way.

Europe had more stairs
But better bathrooms
It’s still amazing
The people I see
My kith
My kin
Even somewhere
On the autism spectrum
Our brains
Our feet
Our lives
Our loves
Our cares
Our light
Our dark
Here we are
All of us
We walk in the sun
We walk by the light
Of the moon
Of the stars
With our kith
With our kin.

Monday, June 5, 2017


Ah, cats. This is the first time the kitten has been without familiar human company for any stretch of time. The older cat knows "all will be well." He sleeps and eats until the next person arrives at the front door. He knows that person will adore him.

The kitten
Has just figured
She was abandoned
For two weeks.
She spent
The last two days
In cuddle mode.
Out come the claws.
Now she races
Through the house,
Up and down
The stairs.
The older cat
Takes it
As it comes.
Food and water,
The occasional lap.
He sheds on
On whomever
Will allow him
A lap.
He craves attention
From whomever
Walks through
The front door.

Sunday, June 4, 2017

No puffins

Home again. I am glad to be home. We are planning a closer trip to see puffins.

In the blue chair
With the cats,
The familiar birds.
My beloved added
Three birds
To his life list
But alas
No puffins.
We shall have to
Try again.
We joke
That we take a vacation
Like this
Every ten years.
We will try for puffins
Next time,
In less than
Ten years.