snowsmoke
in the white woods
veils of snowsmoke
descend like drapes
unfurling from conifer crowns
cascading with a flourish and fizz
that sets the whole atmosphere asparkle
heightens the drama
anywhere you look
a cloud of crystals
may breathe down your neck
the very next moment
magical shimmer
and cold uncomfortable reality –
that’s how it is these days –
you gotta find a way
to make room for both
a striking truth re mothering boys
after 12 years of mothering boys
I still don’t quite get it
we leave for a walk and I ask them
to leave their PVC pipes behind
let’s not whack things
let’s not be violent
let’s be quiet
and look for animals
they grumble, but do it for me
and within minutes they’re clutching
big brown blocks of icy snow
smashing them against each other
after one starts crying
I try again
let’s not beat on each other
let’s just walk
and see the world
the crying one protests,
requesting more abuse,
but we continue plodding along
until they both spy a mullein
at the same time –
a ramrod-straight perfect sword –
they both fall upon it at once
after much wrestling and wresting
they strike a deal
as to who can whack with it
I still have not learned
how much they need
to feel their own bodies
through the vibrations
of something else striking them
how their muscles need to be told
where they are in space
how they need to be sure
they exist right now
with the solid reassurance
only a good thwack will give
the realm of the everywhen
what exists in the everywhen
(by my faith):
compassion
energy
creativity
love
truth
transformation
these are the forces of the eternal now
the flows that one must align to
the vibrations that yield harmony
snow bombs
sometimes you hear the womp
of a pile of plush snow
plunging from the treetops
down onto a deep drift first
other times a curtain
of sifted snow waves across the sky
like a veil between the trees
every time I look for the chickaree
or chickadee who precipitated it
there’s nothing
it seems the work of snow spirits
walkers on the wind
beings keeping watch over us
who we can only know
by what else they move
snow ghosts sneezing up
soft clouds of hushed white debris
staying away
as long as we don’t meet
I’ll know it’s not my fault
(anything that might happen)
and how could I live
with having harmed you?
we all say these words
to everyone now
stay alone for all of you,
our loves who we most long
to wrap our arms around
to share breath together
(the Māori know)
makes us most alive
but I can’t risk
robbing you of yours
so we’ll stay alone in our little
forced-air windows
saying hello through flickering screens
where we can’t smell spring
together
waiting for snow
all day
that tingle of anticipation
getting things done
while they still can be
groceries bought
wood split
sun basked in
walk taken
now all that’s left
is for the wind to shift
clouds to fuzz the sky
and the slow white moths
to begin to tuft the trees
we’re waiting for permission
to withdraw from the world
casting about
how can one endure
house arrest
without knitting gear?
Bernie
I wanted him to run
past all hope of winning,
a trustworthy soul
with a consistent stance
who was always there for
us believe-in-better-days folks,
those more than ready
to be the change.
But he couldn’t possibly win!
Alex says in exasperation
(though he voted for him, too).
I wanted him to keep running anyway
I say fiercely.
I wanted someone to keep pinning my hopes on
in these uncertain days
when anything may happen.
I wanted him to be there
to be a reckoning.
atypical migraine
each time
the brain storm strikes
I wonder
if I’ll ever be the same
each time
after it’s over
I retest my malfunctioning faculties:
once again
I can read
I can think
I can speak
I can feel my hand –
these are all
plenty to celebrate:
I’ve been spared
again
