Wander for Sunday Scribblings

Tuesday June 7, 2011

I Carried It in My Pocket

We'd been fighting
tossing words back
and forth
at each other.

Did you ever notice
if you add an S
to "words," it turns
into swords?

Anyway, we were
tossing swords
at each other
when I couldn't

take it anymore
so went out
for a walk
in the woods.

The sun was minting
little golden coins
on the ground.
I picked one up,

put it in my pocket,
and wandered back home.
He looked up at my smile
when I walked in,

put his arrow back
in its quiver. I took that bit
of sun out and we sat
holding hands in its glow.

Rising Early

Thursday June 9, 2011

Rising Early

I looked out my bathroom
window at the just lightening
sky and saw fog hanging
in the valley.

After my shower I looked
out, again. The mist
was lifting and clouds
we're getting coppery.

I got dressed then went
downstairs, grabbed my
camera, went out onto
the back porch

and took some pictures
of the sun trying
to burn through the haze.
Then, I turned around

and saw my granddaughter's
striped sundress
hanging on the line
and just had it snap a few

pictures of its bright
colors putting an exclamation
point on this first
paragraph of my day.

Sunday Scribblings: Instinct

"Little Deuce Coupe"
is blasting from loudspeakers,
raining the sixties

all over the classic car meet
at Muscle Car City.
My first instinct

is to remain in our car
reading while my husband
walks around. He convinces

me I should go with him,
though. I see shiny Corvettes,
Cadillacs, GTOs, Model Ts,

a VW bus with peace signs,
and an El Camino my husband
loves. But I've have enough

of the past. So, here I sit
listening to Chubby Checker
twisting again like he did

last summer. I see my husband's
yellow cap stuck under a hood.
I'm typing away in the present.

3WW: Drab, Pulsate, Tendril

Finally

All the blinds
are closed.
The drab dawn

sits like fog
outside my windows.
Inside, tendrils

of sunshine
wrap around my brain.
I'm writing a poem.

Words pulsate
on the tips
of my fingers.

Tap, tap, tap...
Black on white.
Smile, smile, smile.

Mud for Sunday Scribblings

Mud

Mix imagination
with the water
of words

Add in a slice
of morning
sunshine

Stir with the spoon
of emotions
until soupy

Drop in a tear
or two
for salty sass

Serve it in bone
china teacups
with cream

to soften
the impact.
Hit "publish."

3WW: Dignity, Lacerate, Ripe

Trees

Leaves
ripe as apples

Vines
cling like a child

Bark
a coat of dignity

Branches
pray

My husband
was a logger

He'd pull
the cord

on his
chainsaw

and lacerate
one by one

Saplings
smiled

lifting
their faces

to the naked
sun.

3WW: Affair, Expectation, Free

Sharp slices
of brightness
slash my morning
blinds.

I'm sitting in bed
with no expectation
of anything
for today.

Free hours
are maple syrup
sticky and sweet.
I should get up,

open the blinds,
make breakfast.
Instead, I've begun
an affair with laziness.


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