From Philadelphia to Paris

The mountain seemed to breathe-
growing larger yet fading away
as I walked closer, an incongruity
as my steps made the ground shake
deep inside me.

I remember walking 3,000 miles away
as a young girl, surprised that the hills
looked the same but with older churches,
and the beef was not that different but
there were naked women on the beach.

I was drawn to an artists’ corner
but not the art so much as the hands
creating it amid the traffic and gawkers
and it may have been how they ignored
everyone around them that inspired me.

I had no concept as I flew over an ocean
how my life would bend to and fro
along a dirt road but I remember watching
people’s reactions just as I do now,
from fear to curiosity and back again.

Having it all

Stars are disappearing tonight
as clouds roll in, bringing rain.
I can still feel the sun’s warmth prickling
my skin today, just as a breeze brushed by.
Flowers stood quietly proud as their colors
and scents filled the spring day.
Birdsong echoes and fades as night comes.

There is bread for tomorrow.
There are stories at my fingertips.
There is nothing more to want at the moment.

A field of flowers I have not yet met

There is a haven for me somewhere-
maybe it is a time or a person
or maybe I will be always be on edge
because the taboo things are too dear
and there is little enough to take seriously
in a world with platypuses and ice cream
and things like names for stars.

I wonder if it will always be an alone place
or if someone will come with me
to frolic amongst fields of flowers, sharing
stories with no titles or endings in sight.

Littering

Somehow months become
years and you realize
there’s no arriving, just more
traveling with more stuff to carry.

The trick is knowing what to keep
and what to shed when sunlight
and heartbreak share space
with daydreams and minutiae.

I have imagined us moving along
a path where wildflowers abound
and each moment is a new blessing
even when the blues drift by.

We tucked and rolled
whatever was bothering us
and tossed it out the window
on the highway going 75mph.

Circular

Morning at 50
is not unlike afternoon as a child,
a little tired and very hungry
from exertions imagined or real,
possibly an ache or two,
depending how brave we’re feeling.

The dawn air is heavy with a storm coming
and it’s quiet as I await my children,
just as I used to await my parents.
I don’t know why I’m awake so much.
I’m not that ambitious.
My dreams have always taken a lot
of my time and sleep is too passive,
so my body is often pushed by my mind
to do things in a disputed timeframe,
finding myself at odds with myself.
A woman and a child.