It’s an old tree, standing in my yard –
not ancient like the Sequoias, or statuesque like the Redwoods, just
a squat little apple tree being the best
tree it can. I can imagine it wiggling its roots in the rich soil, like the child playing
In the sandbox under its shady umbrella,
Deer come to graze on the bounty of late summer and Robins build delicate,
twiggy nests in its branches, and I’m sure
I can hear it humming lullabies in the night.
…. the slight whisper of a page being turned
late at night after everyone is asleep
…. the sharp rustle of paper as a page is
rapidly turned in anticipation
…. the final satisfying whoosh of the last page
turned, a book closed
Inside a Book
My bookshelves are filled with
sweet dreams of many poets. The content of each book is the beating of a writer’s heart, pumping with inky fervor, guiding me into a world where we will meet soul to soul. A place where one thought is doubled and my muse finds another that suits its tender essence
Pondering My Fate
I am the only one of the bunch left.
I sit alone on top of the refrigerator waiting for someone to look up,
to see me here and think, “Oh
there’s still a banana!” Maybe they will slice me and smother me
in ice cream and chocolate sauce.
Maybe they will cuddle me up between two slices of bread slathered in peanut butter,
or lovingly slice me into a bowl of warm oatmeal.
Maybe someone will grab me on the way out the door, on their way to yoga or soccer practice.
My freckles are just starting to show. I am the perfect
specimen, slightly curved, firm yellow skin, soft buttery insides – just what the doctor ordered.
I know my days are numbered, here on the fridge.The longer
I go unnoticed, the more likely I have been forgotten and I will slowly rot, until someone notices the smell. Then, I must join the
soggy tomatoes, the stinky potatoes, the furry grapes –
unfortunates destined for the compost pile.
Do Not Believe
Don’t believe it ……..
when they tell you there is no gentle man in the moon or shining stars are just spheres of gas. For they are fools with hearts that cannot see the magic and souls that do not hear the songs.
About What Counts
He sits at the kitchen window counting
birds at the feeder. He used to know the name
of each one, their breeding habits, their migration
patterns. A large shadow passes overhead, scattering
the little birds like the memories that elude him. People
and places he no longer recalls, strangers in photographs.
Only the feelings remain.
Surely they must count for something.
At the Rim of the Canyon
The sky above is a canvas of blue, an unnamed
shade no artist can faithfully recreate.
Great Condors seem like dots above me, wings spread,
wheeling through the warm air, defying extinction.
I hear the hush of wind in the pinyon pines, as
if the Gods of many nations are breathing.
Ripped open before me is the history of this
planet, laid down in stripes of rock and mineral,
chiseled away by a restless river, relentlessly
eroding the chasm I stare into, eon by eon.
Before the vastness of this grand canyon, I
lay down my human hubris and weep.
An Everyday Kind of Love
Love is nothing like the movies –
sometimes it looks like laundry and dirty dishes. Real love happens in the school drop- off line and hides in the bleachers of soccer matches and band festivals, simple ordinary times when a parent’s love fills all the empty places. waltmarie poetic form
Of Courage and Joy
No one tells you how courageous you must be to grow old
The oldest are often the bravest No one tells you how many times a heart can be broken or
How many times it can heal
No one tells you your body will fight against you and Vigilance will become your watch word
No one tells you about how much love a human heart can hold
And still have room for more No one tells you that joy comes in the form of chickadees
And children’s laughter
Yet, when they tell you that the best is yet to come You do not believe
And the Town Came Alive
Once the old town was asleep, waiting.
The streets were empty and lonely – no cars, no people, no life. Then a spark ignited, slowly turned to flame, opened fresh eyes. Hearts returned. You Are Here.