This weekend has held about three weekends full of stuff.
Communing with dear friends.
Running.
Dancing.
Swimming.
And my husband’s on a bobcat, right now, ripping up the front yard.
Sometimes it’s hard to know what to pay attention to…
which little moments matter most…
4/9/11
who notices this?
a child with a chicken,
baby in his arms
4/8/2011
long tail of the cat
blessed and folded into
the baby’s fat hands
My friend Andi is celebrating National Poetry Month over at her blog, too.
In fact, she’s the one who told me about haibun and encouraged me to give it a whirl.
(I have to say I’m loving the process…)
Earlier this week, she riffed a little off of one of my poems.
Now I’ve done the same with one of her’s.
She wrote the middle line, above, and used it in a poem about origami.
I’ve re-purposed it here, to fit the baby who visited today —
a rosy 8-month-old who practiced standing at the coffee table and rolled across the rug and let me kiss her curls.
Babies are one of life’s delights… though the cats may disagree.
4/7/2011
The old dog panting
even though it’s cool outside
Just a few breaths left
Our sweet, funny mutt turned 16 this winter, which is 112 to you and me.
She can’t see or hear all that well, and she pants at the slightest provocation,
but she loves a crunchy bone and a good ear rub.
Same as she ever did.
Can’t say quite how much we’ll miss her when she’s gone.
4/6/2011
Oh, bushel basket
of spinach and green garlic
dinner, comfort, love
Our spring veggie basket delivery has begun!
Each year we wait for the day when the basket, heavy with surprise, lands on our front stoop.
And this year, that day was today.
Romaine lettuce, kohlrabi, spinach, green garlic.
And the most amazing pea tendrils you’ve ever seen.
I made quiches of half the bounty before it could even hit the fridge.
I love this time of year…
4/5/2011
bees drunk on milkweed
lantana and coneflower
let children slip past
There is something so sensual about spending a lazy afternoon at the Botanical Gardens with a slew of ten year olds.
Hopping rocks across the lily pond, stroking the lamb’s ear, sniffing the rosemary and lemon verbena…
"Being in an herb garden makes me want to chew," says my daughter.
And softly, with nothing really in our mouths, we do.
4/4/2011
Oh, happy raindrops
squirrel opens his mouth toward sky
we are all awash
I was caught in the rain on my bike this morning, after so many months of dry.
I laughed and hollered like a banshee and am listening now as it slows down to a dribble off the roof.
But there’s the thunder still, promising more.
4/3/2011
each rolling hill blurs
the sun flattens into night
what is left to see?
I was on the road tonight at dusk, right when the light got all soft and the air turned pink.
And it was as if everything had truly transmuted, as if the shape of things had changed, and the quality and material and location of things.
Everything.
When really, it was just the light…
4/2/2011
split peas, onions, salt
thunder of a rolling boil
makes the best of drought
Weather outside and weather internal.
Hot or cold, wet or dry.
There are long-standing jokes mocking weather talk — something that should, apparently, only be used in awkward moments by boring folks.
But really, it is what underlies our every day.
We might as well take note…
I’m not big on practical jokes.
They make me nervous — and not just having them played on me, but also playing them on others.
I say "April Fool’s" before the joke is even finished, lest my victim spend a millisecond worried or confused.
This morning when my Small One went off with her "broken wrist" wrapped in an ace bandage, it took great restraint not to follow behind her saying, "She’s just joking, folks. Carry on. Nothing to look at here…"
I’m well aware that this makes me kind of a scrooge on a day like today, but here’s the thing. I like surprises that make people float, rather than knock them off balance, surprises that make people expand rather than contract, surprises that delight.
And I really, really like surprises that come wrapped up in poems.
So, it may not be my day but it’s definitely my month: National Poetry Month!
Here are some surprises for you:
Get a poem-a-day in your mailbox from Knopf
Get a poem-a-day in your mailbox from Poetry Daily
Get today’s list of Poetry Friday features at The Poem Farm.
And, if you’re so inclined, you can get a haiku-a-day right here. Today marks the beginning of my third annual April Haiku Series in celebration of National Poetry Month, and I’m even extending the practice to haibuns this year — at the invitation of one of my poetry sisters, Andi Jazmon at a wrung sponge.
A haibun is the practice of complementing one’s haiku with a little prose. A little commentary, or journalling, to frame or extend the idea of the haiku. Basho created the haibun style as he needed a way to add a little narrative to his imagistic revelations. Sometimes I need that, too.
4/1/2011
cat in the foxgloves
thinks he’s hidden, quiet, pink
ears like white flags fly
Don’t we all think our disguises are a little bit better than they are? Our self-perpetuated myths? Our masks and pen names? When really, we can’t help but walk around revealing ourselves. Showing our cards and our hearts. Waving our white flags….
Today was a pretty sweet day.
A chilly morning.
A fourth-grade field trip.
Something garlicky-gingery in the slow cooker for tonight.
And then I got an email that took the day from just plain sweet to super duper sweet to the power of ten.
I’ve got an illustrator for my next book with Beach Lane Books and she is the amazing Stephanie Graegin!
My editor showed her my text for Happy Birthday, Baby and she said YES!!!
Horns!
Confetti!
Dancing!
More dancing!
More dancing!
More dancing!
I’m so excited…
