that's mrs. mediocrity to you

.

sitting with it

because
today

that’s my best

offer

.

. . . . .

.

here i am again, doing this again–30 days of poems, hoping the words will come.
hoping hope will come, as well.

.

green

is suddenly
everywhere

like fear and
purple anxiety

this rainbow
kaleidoscope
of days

perpetually
shifting

a mosaic

of all things
human

.

. . . . .

.

here i am again, doing this again–30 days of poems, hoping the words will come.
hoping hope will come, as well.

.

shifting dynamics

the way we

fix a flat tire
without any yelling

(mostly)

and cook dinner
together
same as always

but different

and miss
everyone
all the time

even each other

and keep passing
this ball of hope
back and forth

between us

.

. . . . .

.

here i am again, doing this again–30 days of poems, hoping the words will come.
hoping hope will come, as well.

.

in numbers

we stand

marking lives
with calendars

60 years
eighty

2 years
fifty-five

just some of the
birthdays
we celebrate this month

in spirit

apart

with love

but no hugs

.

. . . . .

.

here i am again, doing this again–30 days of poems, hoping the words will come.
hoping hope will come, as well.

.

mending

the invisible thread
that holds us

together

a swirl of snow
here

a ray of sun
there

a circle

delivering

promise

.

. . . . .

.

here i am again, doing this again–30 days of poems, hoping the words will come.
hoping hope will come, as well.

.

forty-eights
masks

so far

miles of
fabric
and neat rows
of stitches

bent neck
sore back
pricked fingers

today
that counts
as poetry

.

. . . . .

.

here i am again, doing this again–30 days of poems, hoping the words will come.
hoping hope will come, as well.

.

silence
(you said)

and i refused
to listen

in the stillness
that followed

i remembered
the sound

of recalcitrance

your breath

and

six miles
of liberty

.

. . . . .

.

here i am again, doing this again–30 days of poems, hoping the words will come.
hoping hope will come, as well.

.

color
(in darkness)

is the shape
of your breath
(tangerine)

or the whisper
that scratches blue
out of black

and the middle
(which never falls
dead center)

the way the moon
wakes me up
with sharp raps
on my window

or silence

embarrassed

by its own
soliloquy

.

. . . . .

.

here i am again, doing this again–30 days of poems, hoping the words will come.
hoping hope will come, as well.

.

roots

fresh new growth
in tiny green houses

we remember
we cherish
we reminisce
we pine

today, the sun shines
lilac leaves reach
for gold
and warm light

soon
purple scent
will fill
every corner

.

. . . . .

.

here i am again, doing this again–30 days of poems, hoping the words will come.
hoping hope will come, as well.

.

breaking
ground

as if
we could plant

the seed
that will
save us

.

. . . . .

.

here i am again, doing this again–30 days of poems, hoping the words will come.
hoping hope will come, as well.