dominos

a door opened to the past

bringing the scent of White Shoulders

and honeysuckle soap from lives lived a long time ago

memories sweet as perfume are all I keep

tucked into linen handkerchiefs edged in lace

I no longer open the door to sadness

or welcome grief when it comes to call

Instead, I send them off with stories of Grandmere’s buttermilk biscuits

Mamma’s stirrup cake covered in hot fudge

and laughter at the snap of dominos on the dining room table.

in-between time

Dusk lingers on this early Spring evening

before Easter vigil begins,

the time in-between life and death

and life again.

I cover the tender lettuces again

to save them from certain death.

Life is that way, isnt it?

A cycle of little deaths, after life, after death

and then the sun shines again

and we all raise our arms to the sky

giving thanks for today

before the in-between time

begins again.

April fool

we are all April fools

are we not

when chill winds blow upon the water

cascading spent blossoms of pink and white confetti

into the sunlit air

how could we have been so suckered in

by that impossibly warm day in March when the ground

was covered in violets and the bees were already

at their dance

April smiles wide in her buttercup gown

all sunshine and pheromones and sweet kissed skies

as we cover the tender lettuces

with old sheets and pillow cases

to soften her frosty night

one more time.

april

spring ridge

With reckless abandon, Spring sweeps in
drifting acid green pollen in her wake.
She scorns the late winters chill
riding bareback and bare footed
into the robin egged morning.
What joie de vivre!
What carpe diem!
What sweet mysteries of bloom and bud
are whispered from her tulip petaled mouth!
She dazzles the bees, drunk
with their golden wares
all knapsacked to spill before their queen.