Lately, thoughts and ideas have been scattered like wispy seeds of a dandelion flitting around trying to make sense of myself on the deep breath of a wish
Scattered
Tag: poetry
Cincuentañera
A week later streamers hang on the patio vibrant, yet tired a trampoline hasn't been reassembled and probably won't return to its spot in the backyard She's thirteen now we've long stopped synchronized wahoo-wahoo-wahoozie mother-daughter bouncing of summers long past, my hands intertwined with her silly little first grader fingers Gifted wine bottles line up one behind the other I sip from a new coffee mug and finish the last two homemade Mexican wedding cookies baked for a birthday A lone striped gift bag didn't get folded, hot pink crumpled paper peeks from the top A new sparkly evening bag invites possibilities and wonderings about unknown adventures How many more trips around the sun?
Cicadas
drone off and on off and on their outer selves hold tight to a blade of grass tree trunk iris leaves we don't remember planting the front door frame under the porch as if they've been invited they were time tellers before I could read time signaling a long hot day hanging back on my favorite swing long hair dangling in the dirt rocking myself into a bright summer haze eyes closed big toe digging into the ground giving myself a little push nothing to do inside nothing to do outside too hot too boring all I could do was swing back and forth back and forth if I were a cicada I'd sing with them droning off and on off and on complaining about the heat the sun summer almost wishing for cooler weather then realizing I'd have to stop swinging I leave the shell of my former self on the swing pull myself up and head indoors for a drink of water the cicadas continue their songs reminding us this summer heat is temporary
Psst…
Mrs. Garza! he whisper-yells hand raised, tests await commands to start You got a baby trash can? Trash can? I moved it to the front hand sanitizer box of tissues bathroom sign-out sheet He mumbles, looks around making sure no one hears or at least he tries I walk to his desk You got a baby trash can? a little tiny trash can? You see, I got sunflower seeds eat em when I'm bored I don't wanna put em all over the table, you know... Yeah, I know, spit I get it I eat them on long road trips so I don't fall asleep while I'm driving Testing binder in hand I walk to my office looking over my shoulder letting everyone know I'm sort of watching Yank, yank, yank, yank Use paper towels that's all I've got take a bathroom break if you need more Psst... Mrs. Garza thank you He sets his desk as if breaking bread computer plugged in- he forgot to charge it a bag of sunflower seeds slouches agains the testing divider paper towels stacked and ready pencil scratch paper testing ticket Today you'll be taking... Crack! He snaps the first seed
Stopping
for a break is valuable but when you stop what do you do? does the mind wander too much? why is it hard to refocus? start again, build momentum why stop? is it to observe? try something new? look for something, or let something find you? rather than restarting, it's time to continue this thing that sustains and feeds me, consider words that want to be said, that need saying was the stopping meant for listening? how do you bring everything together?
Raspberries
tart and sweet flavor and stain a round mound of crushed ice packed into a paper cone on a hot summer day macerated, fill and sweeten a layer between white wedding cakes, the top tier saved for that first year anniversary shared two weeks later after the honeymoon because it was so darn good why save it? two fresh ones kerplunk! into a sink full of dirty dishwater escaping the dysfunctional sieve of a hand while another plops their neighbors into a waiting mouth
Slices
of oranges sprinkled with salt sticky sweet juice dribbling down a chin of memories well lived some uneventful bursting with simplicity some saved for savoring later when the mood strikes of time held on an analog clock holding still in good times or bad placeholders for stealing moments to write contemplate create of stories interwoven across miles initiating laughter provoking thoughts ideas resonating with souls unleashing frustration distraction confusion affirming realities and struggles inspiring hope and kindness through shared Words
Morning routine
finds us dodging each other bumping almost shoulder to shoulder stepping over a wet towel or bunched up pajamas if it's a bad morning, we'll argue if it's a good morning, we'll argue a little less "clean up the toothpaste worms from the sink" I remind her for the hundredth time "I KNOW!" she snatches the brush before I can get to it so I plug in the hair dryer instead I decide to let the exasperation and tone roll off not. worth. it. I wear my thick-skinned fur coat 24/7 grit my teeth, breathe in, breathe out and carry on with my morning "this eye looks good but why is this eye just NOT working?!" a white washcloth smudges off a crooked layer of eyeliner along with a few tears she doesn't want me to see I lean in, mascara wand trying to make some magic happen for my own eyes I don't have time to smudge it off "how? how can you put on mascara without opening your mouth?" I continue applying my face she continues applying hers, sneaking a glance at my expertise with a mascara wand "I've been doing this longer than you've been alive" she leans in with her own wand mouth wide open satisfied, she steps back I look at our reflection and try not to think about the days I braided her hair in front of this mirror and she'd want to help with my makeup
A Bubble
wafted toward me this morning out of nowhere empty street no kids playing backyards seemed bare, still from where did this little bubble appear without others trailing behind? one shimmery rainbow glistening bubble floating in the air is it Glinda coming to pay me a visit grant me some wishes? promise I won’t cheat no asking for three more wishes but seriously, here I am a grown woman looking for Glinda the Good Witch in her puffy pink ball gown crowned in her sparkling tiara waving that magic wand contemplating three hopeful wishes that floated along in a single bubble until somewhere it popped
Beating the Sunday Blues
It's spring today Had to double check A brightening sun teases me through the window as I write It's still cold outside, but it doesn't have winter's bite I'm cutting short my morning puttering Got a lot done yesterday so I could enjoy the whole of today I typically get the Sunday blues on Saturday night lamenting a long list of Still Needs To Get Done Before Monday Back to work Monday A back to work rain in the forecast Monday Today, I'm going out to play with a spring in my step a taste for the end of May
Nerds Beget Nerds 