Wednesday, April 23, 2014

Month of Poetry, 2014, Day 23: Braids

Braids

He crawls into my bed
in the early morning light
ponytail holders in hand.
"I'm still asleep,"
I murmur into the pillow.
"No, you're not," he replies
and makes those annoying noises
that are his specialty until I sit up
and pull the brush
through his long blond hair.
He lays his head in my lap
so I can weave a tiny
French braid over his right ear
then switches sides
and finally settles between my knees
for the thicker braid at the back.
He finally got brave enough
to wear his Legolas braids
to school last week.
"Did anyone make fun of you?"
I asked and he listed off the names
of a bunch of fourth-grade thugs.
"Did you beat them up?" I asked,
of these children guilty of a double
crime: not taking my son for who he is
and implying that "girl" is less-than, an insult.
"Pretty much," he said. "Did you tell
them they're just jealous of your
beautiful hair that brings in the ladies?"
My son dove under the table, retching.
There is only one girl he admits liking
and that only obliquely, crawling into her bed
in the early morning light.

Weekend Things, Easter Weekend

Spring continues to creep slowly into our corner of the woods.


Saturday, we took a walk along the stone walls on our property.


I expected it to be a grand adventure--


And it was, sort of, but it was a lot less elaborate than I expected.


But nice anyway, and we found some treasures along the way.


We had planned to go to Washington DC this week (spring break for the kiddos).


But something came up with the friends we were going to visit, so we regrouped and are having a staycation instead.


After the Easter egg hunt and breakfast of hot cross buns, fruit salad, jelly beans, yogurt-covered raisins, and, of course, hard-boiled eggs, we headed out on a hike and picnic lunch at our favorite spot.


There's something about going to the same spot year after year that emphasizes how much and how quickly we're all growing up (or old). 


Everyone has memories--"Remember when E carried that giant Easter egg rock on the whole hike, and then Z threw it at his head?"


("I told him to watch out!"). 


"Remember when I found the deer antler?" 


I remember pushing the double-stroller down this trail.


Next year, we'll remember owl pellets and giant sandwiches and too much wind on the beach.


 And so another year passes, with birthdays all-around coming in a few weeks, and time galloping along without any regard for my feelings.

P.S. I neglected to notice that my book review of Susanne Antonetta's adoption memoir, Make Me a Mother came out on Literary Mama last month.

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Month of Poetry, 2014, Day 22: Earth Day

Earth Day

Another excuse for shopping
All day my inbox pops with "Earth Day Sale!"
I should get off these lists
Each taking up space on a server somewhere
All that electricity
At least I am at work
Protecting The Environment
One of those jokes
That isn't even funny
At the end of the day
I'll pus the "Power Save" button
On the copy machine
Which is something, I guess

Monday, April 21, 2014

Month of Poetry, 2014, Day 21: Rejection

Rejection

Early morning
rejection message
in my in box.
It was a long-shot.
But still.
We're not supposed
to acknowledge
these things.
Don't mention it.
Just thicken the hide,
hit "send" again.
Writing is not hard.
It is not mining
for rare earth minerals,
or smashing cathode
ray tubes, or digging
in garbage dumps.
It involves no noxious
fumes. There is little
chance of explosion.
There is also little
chance of success.
Which makes me
wonder, why not
spend time on more
fruitful pursuits?
Like Words with
Friends or more TV?
Why not take up
tatting or home
brew? Why not
stop neglecting
the garden? All
good questions,
for which I lack
answers. So instead
I move on to the
next long shot
on the list and hit
send.

Sunday, April 20, 2014

Month of Poetry, 2014, Day 20: Easter Haiku

Easter hike, Dodge Point
Boys once rode stroller, now run
But tired hold my hand

Saturday, April 19, 2014

Month of Poetry, 2014, Day 19: Stone Walls

Stone Walls

Today we walked
the walls
gray, lichen-encrusted
tumbles of stone
marching in straight
lines across our property.

I don't know
what I expected––
a maze,
complicated and ancient?
Walls that meet
and cross
and go on
forever?

Instead we found
a three-sided rectangle
overgrown with
blackberries
and hemlock trees
rocks slumped
and fallen
not going anywhere,
halting in the middle
of nowhere.

Friday, April 18, 2014

Month of Poetry, 2014, Day 18: Sapsucker

The way a crow
shook down on me
the dust of snow
from a hemlock tree
has given my heart
a change of mood
and saved some part
of a day I rued.

     ~Robert Frost, "Dust of Snow"


 Sapsucker

Half in the car
half out I pause
ignoring the clock
to listen to the birds
sing in the frost
robin, jay,
crow, song sparrow,
chickadee,
something
that says "fweep"
or maybe "cheeup"
and a tap-tap
tap-tap-tap-tap.
I sense a rustle
and glance up
at a sapsucker
perched on my
open door.
I barely register
its yellow belly
before it is gone
rasping from the trees
but I feel a release
in my chest
a lightening of
my heart.
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