to cut them off in full growth.
Prune them back
cut them no slack.
It’s killing me,
To watch them wither with the frost,
I’ll Save some seeds so
All is not lost.
It’s killing me,
just like it did last year.
To prune them back
so they can keep their
secrets and always be near.
did I remember
to invite you in?
Wander through,
look about.
Where would you like to begin?
When it started seems so long ago.
Little details…soon forgotten.
I remember most…
What would you like to know?
Building layers, shrunken down with time.
Speaking softly, speaking loudly
brought together with a simple rhyme.
Welcome to my space.
No seasons change with me.
Reach out, draw me in.
Then to create
what was always meant to be.
reminiscent of youth,
with undulating subtexts.
surging into the clouds
of mythology to increase doxology.
With power constrained
by rules of men, riding
fiery chariots over all.
High above, and
we mere mortals,
know…
pretend.
you are compelled
to plant the seeds.
Churn the earth
bring up to the top,
to meet the poppy’s needs.
If you are a gardener
you know how time will foil,
those best laid plans,
with weathered demands,
growing surprises in the soil.
When you are a gardener,
you know the meaning of time.
You weed, you pick,
you water, you wait,
and hope, again, that all will be fine.
When you are a gardener,
you know right now isn’t it.
But to work you must,
because in goodness you trust,
others will have shade under which to sit.
through time,
creating layers of safety.
Primordial in its need
to protect.
Maintaining a division
of power
all the while,
reaching out,
while becoming ready to
spread farther.
Kincaid Park sand dunes
Anchorage, Alaska
Cook Inlet
What, you thought I was talking about me?
While I’m certainly not perfect,
my growth has been better than this.
vegetable garden, first day of summer
Anchorage, Alaska
He exclaims in a rush,
to see the mama bird
delivering a worm.
Newborn chirping,
as the small house,
becomes a home.
With beaks open to the sky
we watch and wait,
As the hearse pulls into a driveway
across the street and
removes the last vestiges of a spirit.
Maybe it flew away,
to our tiny birds?
Today.
a perception of Space and time.
And if time says
I’m not here
Then the Space I have left will soon disappear.
And if time says
Go at it again.
Then the Space will spread out
to Encompass and Befriend.
And if time says
Turn and move this way
Then the Space will provide a
guiding Light
and
an Insight with which to display.
but the clue is hard to see.
The difference in the colors, it was
Somehow was lost on me.
I looked a little closer and the red began to show.
I looked away and back again
to bring it in to view.
Then I knew I saw it,
And the color reminded me so very much
Of you…
I tell myself I don’t need them all.
I don’t want them all…
and I know that’s not true.
They sputter and splatter
And leave a mess..
Yet…I want them all.
Straining, dripping, filling the compost
They sit and wait for winter freeze
To bring back the smell of cider,
While those we couldn’t reach lie in rot
Wasted.
I wish someone else wanted the same as I.
with feelings of belonging for
school Open House and
seeing others we know.
Our world begins to disappear with looking closer, to find the edges
which are now blurry to the touch.
Taking on new form.
To transform the familiar and create
new windows of opportunity.
Fall fog on Madison Way
September 14th, 2010
We don’t know who,
Do you?
We were walking along,
Tempted to sing a song.
We remembered to look up!
And look down
To see the special gift we found.
And we left it as we went away.
So that someone else
would also have a gift today.
September 12th, 2010
is missing as Fall draws near
“Close the window,” says Keelin. ” It’s noisy.”
So, we shut out the Holiday noise
of leaf blowers, while we wait for our fall to snow from the birch trees in the backyard. Coming down and nestling
within the last of the blooms while the sun lowers on the horizon
and shines through, bringing them back to life.
While the weed whackers drone, we put those sounds with the plane
right over our heads as we admire the sky which hid from us all summer.
and moves us on toward winter and soft sounds where the snow comes down
and all of our neighbors’ hard work will be covered. Until they bring out the leaf blower and blow away the beautiful white, silent snow.
roof top garden
September 6th, 2010
We like to think our life is choices
Giving control where little exists.
We like to think our life is options
Taking others with us upon our trips.
We like to think our life is precious
We are so different from the rest
We like to think our life is always worthwhile
That we have given it our best.
We like to think our life still looms ahead
And hope much more is to come.
We like to think our life is choices
If only others…
Cook Inlet
Anchorage, Alaska
July 23rd, 2010
For going to the Fair. Skipping some school.
A small state Fair, not prone to provide the thrills others get to see.
But when you were little, it didn’t matter.
Brother and sister now negotiate.
You ride this–I’ll ride that.
and Sharing tickets.
While hanging on against the forces provided.
To spend mightily while staving off the
end of the day and the return to the routine.
Moving on to the next spin doctors
As I stop think that I did not see this until I was just this age.
A Kiddie Land on the highway going into town
shared space with a drive-in movie, showing monsters and shaky sheriffs
next to a swimming pool that chilled even in the 100 degree heat.
being Raised by parents who never experienced a Fair
Life continued much the same
With patterns repeated of
Activities, sights and sounds.
yet, As the rain begins, we move
into the barns to smell animals we can’t identify.
And talk to the turkey, jump when the rooster crows and
admire the softness of the bunnies.
Heading home, feeling slightly sick
A sure sign that it was a Fair day.
Alaska State Fair
Palmer, Alaska
September 1st 2010
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