even the dogs stop
mid motion
frozen
watch the Ravens
coast far overhead
in epic, creeping circles
and my mind is undone
in the filtered sun
hypnotized by the glory
and quiet
Latest
Haiku for me
The three of us lay
you, me and your anger
Only you get up
It’s taken all day
chasing clouds you left behind
spring cleaning my mind
See how I free me
crocus multiply within
me; I am blooming
On Top of The World
On the Top Of The World
You and I
came together
above perpetual skies
hiding vast ranges
while time undressed
herself before us
we were not shy
Young and unarmed
Aside
make a little birdie nest
Hey you,
make a little birdie nest
you don’t seem to wanna get dressed
Lordy child this mama knows
what it is like
when you don’t want to wear clothes
Snuggle back in before the day begins
I’ll stop the clock and lock the door
stoke the fire and rock in my chair
It’s raining out there, anyhow
Even Darth Vader has a heart of gold
Inside, Outside this yurt
Even Darth Vader has a heart of gold
and I am told
this baby of mine
is a hobo clown
spirals of laughter
as you wind down
onto the ground
writhing like worms
my trifecta of sons
your brilliance is blinding
Mother’s Day Poem 2013
This is why we never could
have moved to the ocean
in my dreams my mother’s quirky fears
unplug electric blankets
even though at bedtime
I do not worry about fires and strangulation
My mother’s worried eyes
watching the news
as gentle waves gobble up all the islands
with us inside
I share my bed
My face is braille to your tiny hands
briefly; in the night
assured you are not asleep in the grasses, left out for the lions
you settle without unsettling
and I wonder at your wholeness
grateful for your breathing
even and steady and time
which has become a gift
unfolding itself before me
in spite of itself
truly amazing technology
(you my darling)
is indistinguishable from magic
and you are surely magic
In my mother’s garden- Happy Canada Day Poem
I am home
soft rain
soft mint
two bumblers dutifully attending
tall lilies- hot orange and prideful
weeping raspberries heavy from June
I can imagine
empty spaces and radical homemakers
transforming dirt to tables
laden with their bounty
The prairie spirit runs through my core
shaking my walls
determination
this
this is a world of privilege
where perennials change hands
seeds are saved
and people are grateful
for the freedom in the wind
the safety of seeing the future coming
from off in the distance
every plant has a story
woven through time and tradition
to carry us through
hard times
the gift I’ve been given
barefoot, red strawberries
children of plants from my childhood
crashes my veins
empowering me to step away
and into the dirt
transforming into the radical
women homesteading the harsh Canadian prairie
grateful for the privilege
of hard work
and freedom
