Dusk has blanketed the valley floor
and the kiss from rosy, red rays
descend behind Camelback Mountain.
The last of hovering heat slowly recedes
and the cool of night creeps over the trees pushing gentle breezes
against our wanting faces
Kick, push little man
Kick, push
your little leg on the Razor “red” Scooter
That’s right little one . . .
Agility crowns your body and confidence builds her home
Left-center in your little man chest.
Gravel!
And wibble, wobble
Don’t fall little one! You can have my hand . . .
Too Late! Confidence stole you from my grasp . . .
Kick, push
Kick, push
Come home little man
Night has stolen the day away
Friday, May 30, 2008
Cause/Effect
through the space of time my arm extends
gently to your plump abdomen
and my fingers gently play your belly like a piano without effort
giggles highlight the room
your chubby legs curl to your belly
while joy peacefully rests her contentment on your face
i hide my face in your neck breathing softly
your shoulders cringe and
i withdraw
roll over little baby
and come back to where i can extend my arm and grab you
come back little baby
let my fingers admire your chubby waist
come here little baby
let your laughter resound in my ears as
i tickle you once more
gently to your plump abdomen
and my fingers gently play your belly like a piano without effort
giggles highlight the room
your chubby legs curl to your belly
while joy peacefully rests her contentment on your face
i hide my face in your neck breathing softly
your shoulders cringe and
i withdraw
roll over little baby
and come back to where i can extend my arm and grab you
come back little baby
let my fingers admire your chubby waist
come here little baby
let your laughter resound in my ears as
i tickle you once more
Art Thou Thankful
The stern intrusion of the radio alarm
The gentle hum of a coffee-maker
Cotton sheets and cloud-puff pillows
A temperate shower standing by
Pre-pressed clothes anticipating a warm body
And the hello smile of Meredith and Matt
Wistful kisses and out the door
Crystal dew reflecting on a patient car
Safe travels through the day
Returning home for tea
Settled in for a good read
Welcomed by the cotton sheets and cloud-puff pillows
Awakening again to another day
Art Thou Thankful?
The gentle hum of a coffee-maker
Cotton sheets and cloud-puff pillows
A temperate shower standing by
Pre-pressed clothes anticipating a warm body
And the hello smile of Meredith and Matt
Wistful kisses and out the door
Crystal dew reflecting on a patient car
Safe travels through the day
Returning home for tea
Settled in for a good read
Welcomed by the cotton sheets and cloud-puff pillows
Awakening again to another day
Art Thou Thankful?
Princess Warrior
Wrestling the sheets
Incoherent feverish moans
Nonsensical mumblings with playmates
who have gone home for the day
The darkness blankets the room and your contrasting
skin highlights only lips and brows
I attempt to quench parched lips with Vaseline kept by the bed but your lips curl
while you hastily use your arm to wipe it away
I’ll try again when sleep has pulled you
under the sheets of dreams and such
This one my dear you must battle alone
Restful nights
Attempts at play and catnaps in between
Princess warrior, “heal thyself”
and play again
Incoherent feverish moans
Nonsensical mumblings with playmates
who have gone home for the day
The darkness blankets the room and your contrasting
skin highlights only lips and brows
I attempt to quench parched lips with Vaseline kept by the bed but your lips curl
while you hastily use your arm to wipe it away
I’ll try again when sleep has pulled you
under the sheets of dreams and such
This one my dear you must battle alone
Restful nights
Attempts at play and catnaps in between
Princess warrior, “heal thyself”
and play again
At Tonto Pass: This is a Good Day
The creamsicle sun is setting west of Tonto Pass.
The transpired events of the day roll through our mind like a silent movie while the wind rushes through the windows, past our faces to comb our hair furiously.
What part do I like best?
Is it the cold water rushing against my toes and then to my ankles
or the pebbles caught beneath my feet?
Maybe it’s the moss rushing downstream entangling my ankles;
it’s slimy feel shrugs my shoulders every time.
Could it be that I like your face when you climb over the rocks; accomplishment never looked so good.
Or is it that I can’t find you; my eyes scan the river bank to catch you upstream looking into the river bed exclaiming, “Fishies! A whole bunch!”
Possibly it is when you step into the water never minding the rush its cold chill sends over your entire body.
I like it too when I see you walk in the river and your footing is not so sure and “plop” you fall down, hands meeting the river bed first and water splashes your face and curls.
You never sway or turn around but persist to stand in the river as your body acclimates to its temp.
I see you standing on the bank timid to approach the water so you collect various rocks to take home; a prize for the day.
And then you scour the river bed looking for shells picking them up one by one tossing them in the orange sand bucket. “I’ll take this home” you say.
The tent is erect and we all climb in to experience something new. “Take off your shoes. No sand inside.”
Our privacy is interrupted by the stampede of wild stags halting at the river’s edge to drink some of this fine water. A young punk decides to throw rocks at the closest horse but the horse ignores the call to fear and drinks without reservation.
His white body majestically hovers at the edge and others of the same magnitude join for a cool drink and before we can snap a shot, they’re gone again into the dessert.
Evening is but a moment away.
We gather our buckets, our sandy shoes, tent, and walk up the embankment feeling pleasantly aware of nature and her glory beholds our eyes in one last glance. The sun is setting west of us with one last kiss upon our cheeks; she goes down for the night.
This is a good day.
The transpired events of the day roll through our mind like a silent movie while the wind rushes through the windows, past our faces to comb our hair furiously.
What part do I like best?
Is it the cold water rushing against my toes and then to my ankles
or the pebbles caught beneath my feet?
Maybe it’s the moss rushing downstream entangling my ankles;
it’s slimy feel shrugs my shoulders every time.
Could it be that I like your face when you climb over the rocks; accomplishment never looked so good.
Or is it that I can’t find you; my eyes scan the river bank to catch you upstream looking into the river bed exclaiming, “Fishies! A whole bunch!”
Possibly it is when you step into the water never minding the rush its cold chill sends over your entire body.
I like it too when I see you walk in the river and your footing is not so sure and “plop” you fall down, hands meeting the river bed first and water splashes your face and curls.
You never sway or turn around but persist to stand in the river as your body acclimates to its temp.
I see you standing on the bank timid to approach the water so you collect various rocks to take home; a prize for the day.
And then you scour the river bed looking for shells picking them up one by one tossing them in the orange sand bucket. “I’ll take this home” you say.
The tent is erect and we all climb in to experience something new. “Take off your shoes. No sand inside.”
Our privacy is interrupted by the stampede of wild stags halting at the river’s edge to drink some of this fine water. A young punk decides to throw rocks at the closest horse but the horse ignores the call to fear and drinks without reservation.
His white body majestically hovers at the edge and others of the same magnitude join for a cool drink and before we can snap a shot, they’re gone again into the dessert.
Evening is but a moment away.
We gather our buckets, our sandy shoes, tent, and walk up the embankment feeling pleasantly aware of nature and her glory beholds our eyes in one last glance. The sun is setting west of us with one last kiss upon our cheeks; she goes down for the night.
This is a good day.
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