Day 26 National Poetry Month 2015

ripple, rustle, mist from Lucy
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I'm sitting in a different chair this morning,
a bar chair high enough so my face is out
of the sun.  The wind from the southwest
is creating rustles in the palms and ripples

on the water.  I should go in and get
my big girl camera and use those sparkles
to catch some bokeh, those atmospheric
background circles you can see on most

television shows.  So I do just that.  I set
the dial to aperture priority, get up close
to a flower, wait for the ding announcing
the focus is ready then click, click, click.

I transfer the photos to my iPad and love
the otherworldliness created from the simple
act of taking a picture.  A tiny bit of magic
happens, like that bubble of happy in my

chest whenever I see my son or my daughter
or my Kylie girl.  I'll be with them in less than
a month, their reality forming from the mist
of many days apart.  So, really, this morning

I was conjuring them while the neighbors
saw only a crazy woman out on the stairs
in her nightie with her nose in flowers taking
pictures.  Little did they know I wasn't alone.