you can take away my chocolate but don’t take away my coffee
you can take away my flannel and fleece but don’t take away my denim
you can take away my books but don’t take away my knitting
you can take away my Sunday but don’t take away my sabbath
you can take away my sunshine but don’t take away my rain
you can take away my poetry but don’t take away my thoughts
you can take away my memories but don’t take away the love that makes all things possible
I ripped it all out.
A whole sweater’s worth of knitting
has been rolled back into balls
stashed in a basket
for something different
to become of them.
i don’t really like to think about
or write about or talk about
the dark thoughts I sometimes have
like this question
what else is there?
now mom – and anyone else who loves me and reads this,
haven’t you thought that sometimes too?
is there supposed to be something more
something else to be striving for each and every day
it gets so exhausting sometimes
to be doing the day in and day out of life
every day on my way to and from work
my mind hops on a hamster wheel
and the thoughts begin to spin
but they are the same thoughts
and somewhat dark thoughts
and not very confident thoughts
and I’m having trouble stopping them
but I want to, have to
when I look to the east
and see a pink sunrise,
or even the darkest storm clouds,
— because you see it doesn’t matter which–
mostly what matters is seeing something in the sky
a far away and yet real and lovely horizon
my mind slows back down
to the day at hand
and I find myself thinking
inching forward again
just not so dangerously discouraged
I am cauliflower.
My overall appearance is rather dull,
and my texture questionable.
What are you to do with me?
Raw – I’m really better in chunks,
for dipping, and munching,
surrounded by others more colorful.
I help your plate look well rounded and healthy.
Heat me up and my natural bite will come through –
so partner me with your favorites and I will take on their flavor
and hide in the background.
I’m easily ignored in the market place;
there are so many other tantalizing choices at hand.
But those who know cauliflower
will choose me and know just what to do
to bring out the best in me.
what the heart knows….
The doe shields the fawn,
the robin tilts its head to the ground listening,
a full-throated croak comes from a nearby pond.
Sometimes I know what I’m supposed to do too.
But I am also like the moth on the lampshade,
the possum halted in the middle of the road,
the fish tantalized by the flickering lure.
Confused, dazed, I blunder,
forgetting what my heart knows.
This is what my heart knows:
hold close, listen, love.
Well I missed the 9:00 PST deadline to post my blog entry. Oh well, so I missed one. I’m not really writing for their challenge anyway, I’m writing to challenge myself. And I happen to live in the west, so writing before midnight my time is my goal!!
The substitute aide I’ve had in my classroom this last month while my regular aide is on maternity leave is a dairy farmer with her husband. And it just so happens the milk delivered to our school comes from their dairy. So whenever my students consume thier whole carton of milk she waves her arms in the air, wiggles her hips and sings “my cows are happy, my cows are happy.”
My preschoolers love this little ritual and more cartons are being drained to the last drop because of it. Today one of my barely verbal kiddos finished his milk, held up his carton to indicate it was empty and so Cheryl pulled him up from his chair to do her little dance only this time it was Angel who was singing the words “cows are happy, cows are happy!”
I’ve been writing postcards to myself this month.
Not “wish you were here” notes
but correspondence that says:
“help,” “thank you,” “wow!”
It is interesting to write to oneself;
I can tell myself secrets,
share insights of the sort I especially find amazing
and joke with intimate idiocy.