composed by yours truly
the world may see dried-up and irrelevant —
they may not even see me at all —
LOOK! i’ve re-blossomed with beautiful new petals —
strength, focus, perspective, poetry, silver wisdom —
i am roaring out all that i have held in,
taken on, and put up with — for all my life —
i roar for myself and for all women
i roar at the top of my lungs with all my midlife rage —
LISTEN! no longer can i do it all, nor do i want to —
i may be getting old, but also i am brand new —
Watering the hibiscus
this afternoon —
its weary
parched-green leaves
wilting
in this too-early April heat —
I saw a gecko
who
climbed up the side
of the splintering planter box.
My first split-second
thought —
Alice Walker’s garden gecko.
Crouching,
perfectly still —
the both of us —
I stared at it
and took in
the wonder
of it all.
It didn’t move —
was it asking
for some water?
This bliss,
it was my Paradise.
Gray, rough-coated
nature —
staring right back at me
a foot from my face.
Slowly I moved the hose
just an inch in its direction.
Walker — I’d already
named it Walker —
disappeared so fast
I didn’t even see
it go.
I wish it would’ve stayed.
I had water to give
and troubles
to wash clean.
referencing my favorite Alice Walker poem — “Going Out to the Garden,” 2011, in The World Will Follow Joy: Turning Madness Into Flowers, 2013
hiding in my winter cocoon
not coming out again until June
Earth tilts toward Winter
my heart goes tilty too
the summer-fever cools
to a more reflective hue
October is fresh-faced April beautifully aged to wisdom.
Women blossom and
A day without a nap is like a cupcake without frosting.
cancel culture is
political correctness
overcorrecting
bliss runs wild with the breeze today—
this moment a delicious autumn cake
frosted with october’s dulcet bouquet—
worries let serenity breathe and play
while sweet nature gladness partakes
Read instead of watch TV?
Now there’s a novel idea!
the vibrant green-yellow-pink blossom-life of spring
the watery-blue radiant sunshine-breath of summer
the metallic-earth-toned glowing-decay of autumn
the grey-white holly-festive slow-motion of winter
when the only sounds
are rustling leaves and birdsong
spring has seized the day
campfire flames kiss the night
stars in distant skies blaze bright
ghost story whispers all affright
rustling sounds just out of sight