Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Day 14 National Poetry Month 2015

snow, puppy, trees from Mary (Gina's friend)

There are pink and gray eels in the sky this morning
as I sit here for the fourteenth morning in a row

looking at three words and waiting for inspiration.
A bird flies by, a silhouette, against the now pale blue.

The baby-girl pink is giving way to brash neon.  How quickly
they grow.  Every time I look up, there is a change.

Every wispy cloud is smeared with strawberry cream cheese
The boxwood trees point toward the new day, toward

brightness, toward hints of lavender, where we all end up.
But, not yet.  The sun hasn't even risen and I'm thinking

about the end.  Most of the clouds have faded to snow,
a clean, freshly-fallen snow.  Only the area near the sunrise

turns apricot.  And, now, there it is pulling itself up.  I snap
a picture with my phone then change seats because it's just

too bright on my eyes.  This is my Kylie girl so bright in my
heart, it hurts.  Her puppyness is almost over.  She wants

to become a vet, this critter lover of ours.  For years her favorite
was the dung beetle.  I remember sitting with her reading

a book about animals.  She was maybe two and she knew
them all, what was curious about them, where they lived.

"This one has poison but you don't have to worry because
he lives in Africa" she wisely informed me.  Oh, but, Ky, I do

worry about all the poisons you'll encounter out there in the world.
There is nothing I can do about that.  Next month when she's

here, we want to visit the seaquarium where Winter and Hope
live, the two dolphins from A Dolphin's Tale 2.  We saw

the movie together last summer.  How can she already be nine?
Almost double digits.  Most of the clouds have dissipated,

the sun has released itself from the trees, the blue path
it follows looks even and clear.  Please, please: even and clear.

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