The Mother

And so I call my mother
to thank her for
the strength

she gave to me, and also
perhaps especially,
for the joy, because this life

is just a small opening,
a momentary window,
and though

there are shadows
in the dark,
she gave me my hands,

with which to draw back
the curtains
and open eyes to see

the white snow fall
even as this night sky
lights up with morning.

Wild Bloom

Love,
be like raindrops
devoured
by dry earth,
unbridled
as wild flower
blossoms,
and be
consumed
by the scent of it,
the lush of it,
fall back
into fields
of the decadent
bloom
that swallows
our thoughts and the time
in this high untamed
garden
at summertime’s end,
spill
every last petal
of riotous blue
to the black earth
that beckons
all back
to the soil
between
your barefooted
revelrous
roots.

A Straight Up No Reason Joy Kind of Day

Sure, we got
ice cream
and chased
in the grass,
sang songs
so loud
in public,
you covered
my mouth,
but really
what it be,
is the long-
dawned, drawn
out days of
summer spent
in the company
of those who
are smaller
and seeing
things from a
low down
kind of view
that makes
every type of
same old thing
that much more
laugh-making
on a sunshine,
school’s out,
nothing left
to do but
smile and see
the sunset
kind of day.

Dublin Sunrise

It does not matter that you
had not met before,
you know each other now,
and like the River Liffey
that flows blue
into the Irish Sea,
so have you come together
from your many
scattered sources
to this wild night, dark
and damp beneath
the waning crescent
of a disappearing moon,
and you would stay,
yes you would stay
with these fine
familiar souls
as song and lilting story
dance you round
the fire’s bones
until the Dublin sunrise.