nests revealed
while waiting patiently
for the hairy woodpecker mother
to bring the very large flying bug
to her babies
two more nests reveal themselves:
a flicker flies straight to an aspen
where a branch becomes a hole
and while watching him
a mountain chickadee is
swallowed by trunk
when we’re silent and still
not rushing
the world brings us into
her inner circle
COVID haircuts
my boys bow their heads
and trust me with the scissors
like so many other bits of parenting
I’ve never done this before
at the first bite of shear against hair
Cedar squeals
my knitting scissors, the sharpest we have,
tug his locks as they slice
he fidgets and questions –
things he wouldn’t do with the barber –
and when the tips of the blades
nip him above the ear
we both know this cut is over
even with no blood drawn
I’m slightly more practiced for Owen
(the reverse of our usual pattern)
I know to use my left hand
as a guard against maiming
only cut my own flesh this time
and say nothing of the small red thread
I start with his bangs
the most critical, bothersome part
in case this session is also abruptly ended
by my carelessness
he is patient
I am sloppy
but manage to at least
give him back his sight
in the end he looks younger –
the opposite of a skilled cut –
but before bed after shower
washed, brushed, and slicked to the side
he looks presentable
says something about liking it short
as always
I bow to my children next
thankful for the latest new thing
they’ve allowed me to learn
Sand Creek Sigh
wending our way
through ghosts of kahikatea trees
shattered into cheese crates
we all go sour
buttons pushed
silent or silenced
vacant stares
and equally frosty penetrating scowls
the irritating jabs like mozzies upon us
I steam
why can’t we all just get along?
as usual
not seeing how I’m running things off the rails
not taking into account
a hierarchy of needs
no amount of sunshine or seaspray can fill
tonight the little morepork owls are everywhere
their 2-note incessant cries
like the repeated badgering question
of one son grinding his will against another
no, I can’t fight it
that little morepork must say his say
share all his dark time wishes and won’ts
sing his little heart silent
and I must summon more patience
again tomorrow
On Edge at Mosi-oa-Tunya
What more could there be?
patience
and
peace
