Write a Poem Every Tuesday and Read it to a Friend

feathers fly frantic
underneath the snowball bush
chicken hawk trauma

Two months we have waited
as patiently as we can
and yet you ignore our pleas
ruffling your feathers

We give you pep talks
fresh water and hay
and you leave molted feathers
in your wake

Decoys were placed quietly
eggs from the market
you ignore them completely
perched silently above

You could be soup dear hens
the pot is ready to fill
you peep nervously
yet no eggs arrive

We won’t sacrifice our ladies
bedecked in their newly crowned plumes
we enjoy them on the landscape
regally they strut just for us

I have missed TWO weeks in a row. The thing about that is that I am busy just doing – nothing extraordinary, just popping along doing things that either need to get done or most likely just capture my attention. This is showing me the cracks in my discipline… better next week is the intention.

From across the room
The ball sits silently, unmoving
Poised to be lifted
From their perch
On the abandoned
Treadmill, also waiting.

While the weights,
Jump ropes and bicycle
Shift under the heaviness
Of the dust gathering among them
They all eye me.

I sit across the room
Back towards them
Afraid the guilt will
Pounce at any moment
As they wait for my next move.

Like earth rising
inside the house
smells like heaven

I used to laugh that it was
a good thing
that we didn’t have a garbage disposal
when she was young

I wonder how I could have made
a better thing
by being more patient
when she was young

I felt rushed to get
everything done
running to catch up
when she was young

I remember her big eyes peering
at everything
taking it all in so serious
when she was young

For Paige

four and a half inches above normal
drizzle, pour, mist, repeat
long gray days

they promise sunshine wednesday
peek, shine, blanch, revolve
sunny moments

navy blue suits on tv
smile, point, drift, retell
mega doppler news

go outside feel the air
breathe, lift, smile, relax
my own forecast

I almost forgot
Until I heard the cry
Forgetting
Did you do your poem?

No I yelped
I rushed through my day
Distracted
Not doing my poem

Some days fly
Without time to write
Quickly
I did my poem

Note: I had completely forgotten until my husband asked as we walked back from the mailbox if I had done my poem. Whew, just in time and thanks to him!

Stop pulling
Can’t you see I’m doing
Important scientific discovery

Stop pulling
I’m busy collecting
Reference material

Stop pulling
I’m not ready
There’s another smell

For Zeppelin and every dog on a walk.

Dormant To Do List
It’s Lacking Motivation
Enjoy Not Doing