Poems

FAITH

It was always that first

mustard yellow patch of grass

and mud

that gave me hope.

And I,

small enough to fit in its circumference

– if I curled my tiny legs –

lay amid the billowing drifts

With an upturned face
I’d cast a child’s dreams

into the waiting sky

-A hope for Spring –

The long-sought sun,

at last, would warm

my rosy cheeks,

still thawing from the cold.

c.1999

　

　

(September 2010 inspiration exercise, poems for children’s writing below)

___________

Under some tree is where you’ll find me

below cutouts, fans or a blanket of green –

whatever is available.

Shelter doesn’t have to be encompassing

Just present

And the gift it is.

___________

At night,

Sometimes,

a giraffe carved of wood

creaks into my room,

bowing with books he bears.

I nod to him,

sitting up.

His head angles down

with a groan over the pages

in the pitch-dark of night.

Softly, he starts

“One day,

in a meadow in Africa, far, far away -”

I smile, bowing too.

This is one of my favorites.

“Orangecicle skies

And Acacias

lord over a carpet of yellow and green”

The giraffe, my giraffe,

Loves this place every bit as me,

And I, he.

_________

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