Bobolink

The bobolinks fly 

In the clear blue sky

Their colours swaying 

Like grasses and flowers

Wings flapping

Lifting off

Taking flight 

Yellow and brown bodies

Gracious and proud 

We wait for them in the bushes

Alice is quiet

Patiently looking up

Waiting and 

Worrying a strip of braided hair

In her fingers 

Her mouth opens wide

As the bobolinks soar

Their colours stain the air

Like strips of powdered clouds

Magic clouds

She whispers

Ones to make wishes on 

We are grateful we can look up

Imagine that we could fly too

As the wind whips up

She raises her arms

Lost and playing

Two things we are good at

The light falls

And the sound of wings recede 

We are caught up in its wonder

Part of the flight. 

Threshold

She sits and sings in the corner

I like to watch her play

She will not grow old

Like me

Her skin is supple and pink

Mine is full of marks

Perhaps they are 

My right of passage

Too many years wasted and gone

I am glad she is safe

From the same destiny 

She has her own world

In a way I have mine

The edges of each 

Brush each other

Like elbows bumping in the dark

I have passed many thresholds

None of them good

I am grown

But not wise 

Not quite adult

As we think of the word

As the world judges 

She claps her hands 

When the song runs out

I close the curtains on the sun

Another day passes

I join her in the corner

Clap my hands

Try to drown out 

The passing of time.

Farm

We stand with our backs

To the barn

Spy the animals and the wheat

Through the cracks in the wood 

The hay bales are tightly stacked

There is a bank of fresh green fields

Off in the distance

Where the horses and cows graze 

Tirelessly they come and go

Trudging up the steep path

When it is cold

They slip on the ice 

Time passes like a sonnet

On the farm

We listen to it play

Get lost in the patterns 

And the rhythms 

There is a comfort in watching

Playing our part

In the turning of the land

The light fades

We hold hands

Ready to leave

We will take the memories

Back to the red bed

Hope they follow us into dreaming 

Or maybe on the farm

We dream when we are awake. 

April

Is it the cruelest month

She asks

We look out of the window

The sky is blue

Tiny birds flock to the tree

It seems too bright to be cruel

But we understand 

Sometimes lightness can be a reproach

All the things we are not doing

All possibilities cut off at the pass

It is what the man with the cats said

She trills

Quite merrily 

I expect he knew a lot 

We can feel April too

Perhaps it is different for everyone

Yet familiar to all

Some April showers would cool us down

A slight breeze to ease our skin

It does feel stuck as it is

Bland in a way

Any time can be cruel 

When you don't really belong

In the world 

We will sleep through April

Embrace May 

Welcome June

And look forward to December's red berries

And snow

And so the years move on. 

Ocean

We wear shells around 

Our throat

Tiny speckles of blood

Rise and fall down our skin

Everyone has seen

But only we can tell the story 

I hold her tight

Carry her from the beach

To the red bed 

We stayed by the water for a day

Watched the currents

Breathe

Felt the salt on our skin

Listened to the birds

And the waves

The sun got in our eyes

So we found some rocks 

To cool us

Alice dipped her toes in the water

She always was the brave one

She followed the cat

Through the mirror

More than I could ever do

I close the door and turn off the lights

This is my favourite time

Just before sleep comes

When it is quiet

And the day no longer has expectations 

I watch her sleep 

As if in a trance I think of

All the places I have heard the ocean. 

All For The Birds

The birds sing in the tree

A gentle warble

Alice claps her hands in glee

Like the percussion 

To their song

I hold my ears

Sometimes sound is painful

I like to see her happy though

See her play with the universe

Or perhaps it is playing with her

The colours and the notes

The feathers and the puffed up chests

Beaks open

Legs firmly planted on the branch 

I wonder how long they will sing

Until the sun goes down

She whispers

Then it is just the stars that hum

Lull us into a fitful sleep

Carry us through the night 

The moon glows a tune as well

Like a heart beat 

All around us is life

It is hard to understand

Time

Memories

Feelings

They slip through our fingers

Days passing

All for the birds. 

When Love

When love cuts

It reveals gentle layers

Of granite 

The silt at the bottom 

Of the canyon

Gets carried away

In a flood of tears 

Each tear washes away

Something essential 

A memory

A feeling

Love

Regret 

Remorse

It all flows by

Laps at our bare feet

Makes our hair move

In the breeze

It is as if love is alive

Perhaps it is

In her

The way she feels

Beside me

The way we know each other

When to laugh

When to feel sad

Together we can heal the cut

Turn the granite into flesh

Make room for dreaming 

Make room for happiness

When love comes. 

Letters and Flowers

We gather up 

Letters and flowers

Weave them into sweet 

Little poesies 

Like gifts from a friend

They make us feel safe

They are a world away from real

Just like me

She giggles

I of course am your best friend 

But letters and flowers

Have always been there

From simple stories

To torn out sentences

A line from a poem

A verse from a song

Red roses

Daisies 

Our faithful plant

Persephone

Never look back

Remember

Sometimes we get lonely

Wish to fly away

But we must keep going

Weaving letters and flowers

Honouring our friends. 

Psalm

She prods my arm

We are here in the psalm

Watching the sheep graze

Drinking lemonade

To quench our thirst 

We are always thirsty

The consequence of powder

I assume

The grass wobbles underfoot

Like a picnic table

Trying to find the best spot

I expect when it gets chilly

We will leave

For now we are restful

Quietly humming prayers

Dreaming up hymns

Completing our psalm 

I catch her eyes

They are as blue as the sea

Alive and curious

I am glad she prods me

I like to feel the energy of her fingers

On my flesh

It makes me feel alive and curious too

We yawn

The day is drawing to an end

The sheep are full 

The food is eaten 

The lemonade all gone

We shift our aching body

Thankful for our psalm.