Toddle

Hmm Hmmm Hmmm
He sings,
Boh boh boh
He sings,
Dee Dee Dee
He sings,
Hands behind his back,
He sings.

When children are free

In this sunny day I'm seeking
For a piece of a place I was,
When the daughter of a Sea King
And the child of a Sea-foam Fuzz
Ran from Someday and Well, Maybe.
Oh, they played all day just because
All the children of the Way, free
From Not Now Dear do and just does.

Kick off

Okay folks, everyday in May is here again! And this year, I'm actually going to write EVERY DAY!!!!!


Happiness

How do you write a poem
To describe a perfect day?
When the sun shone
And the wind blew
What can a person say?


Barn moment

A huddle of children laugh
And test the warm hose water
That trickles down to the dark damp concrete
To splash in fluid gems
Against the legs
Of a black and white horse named Rhubarb
Who's going to get a bath today.

Twentieth birthday

Today is my last day as a teenager.
I can't say that I spent it feeling particularly teenagerish.
I ate some jellybeans,
Worked in my garden,
Played with my little brother,
Cleaned the living room,
Sewed some doll clothes,
And made coleslaw for the first time.
But today is the last official day of the two decade long incubation period known as growing up.
Tomorrow I emerge in my full glory as an "adult,"
I won't be able to say, "what can you expect? I'm a teenager" anymore.
It's weird that a whole period of my life, one that I certainly don't feel like I'm done with, can be proclaimed DONE just like that. I don't FEEL like an adult. I feel young, and immature, and like there's still so much I need to know.

Pistachio pudding

Soft spring green substance
Swirls smoothly on my scintillated tongue.
Elusive traces of exotic fragrance
Humble dessert, a hero unsung.

Waiting for words

When the winds come and the leaves fall
I stand under the willows and wait.
And the water rolls past
My seat of green grass
Where I grow words and the hour grows late.

March at the lake with a toddler

Wet clay clinging to your little shoes, making you lift them comically.
Wind snatching at my flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up, and the tails tied to fit you.
Your little fleece Elmer Fudd hat, firmly velcroed under your chin.
The great blue-green lake, the bright blue sky, and your grey-blue eyes.
One spring chilled nose bright red against a pale young face.
Hands lifted up in balancing straightness, echoing the wideness of your smile.