Tools of my trade:
knives
forks
spoons
rosary
ice cream scoop

It has been too long
since I swam in the ocean.

I know this because
I don't even notice
the fins
on my shoulders
anymore.

I'm the crazy lady
the one who randomly
pulls over and jumps
out of her car,
camera in hand,
trying to make some
of the things that are fleeting
last for a long time.

I'm the crazy lady
the one who specifically
tries to hold on to
the slippery-est of fish,
hovering with my net,
jerking the line,
rocking the boat,
only choking myself
in the process

I'm the crazy lady
who dreams of being sane
who lives precariously
one foot
on a cloud
the other
in doo doo.

whoever said that
hot dogs aren't good for you had
no sense of humor

did you ever have
a song
that was stuck
in your head?
you started out
loving it
but by the end
of the day,
hearing the chorus
for the ten-thousandth time,
hated it
and couldn't
make it go away
no matter what?

so you turned out
the lights,
went up to bed,
put a pillow under
and over
your head,
and realized that even
deaf ears
couldn't quiet
the music
in
your
head?

God doesn't love
popular kids more
I said,
kneeling,
crossing myself,
and trying to sound
like this is
Something I know.

this meat tastes
just like leather
he said,
scrunching up his face,
spitting out
part of a shoelace

Be yourself,
be who you are
as long as it
is good

Stand out
from the crowd,
make a difference,
leave a mark,
but try to fit in

Follow the signs:
walk
don't walk
yield
stop
detour
parking lot full

Take good care
hold hands
be nice
don't get hurt by mean people

Live every day
Live like today was your last
Have hope for tomorrow
Learn from the past
Pray everyday
Work hard
Play hard
Eat your vegetables
Move
but not too far

it's at galleries
and museums but art is
wherever you look

with heavy heads bowed,
not one more petal could fit:
full-bloom peonies

advertisements,
bills,
thank you cards,
graduation announcements,
alumni news,
requests for church donations,
magazines,
travel ads,
realtor brochures,
insurance reports,
medical invoices,

so this is the stuff
of my generation,
this is what we wait for
the mailman to deliver,
racing to the mailbox
as soon as he passes?

funny, how the days
when the mailbox held
a loveletter
I was much too busy
living
than to watch
for the mailman

neon in darkness
man-made rainbow all aglow
jewels in the night

what more defines you,
walls that keep you in or the
fence that keeps you out?

My Son: half of my very best work.
Officially, graduated with high honors,
on his way to a doctorate.
Unofficially, too big for my lap
but my heart continues to swell.

enfolded, and on
the verge of wonderful? or
long-stemmed radishes?

ha ha, just when you
think it's safe and pink is gone
the dogwoods show up

amid the brambles,
Madonna blesses the yard
with blue, white and grace

It's a pink, pink world
and I'm tickled pink, in awe
of my peonies!

before the damp earth dries,
before what's pink turns brown,
before I forget who you are
and you forget why we're here
come under the shade of this tree
and we'll dance on top of the petals
wringing our hearts
and cradling all that is
still, dear

whenever the clouds
and raindrops dampen spirits
warm hugs bring sunshine

lately it seems like
things are falling apart just
about everywhere

cooktop, thermostat,
washing machine, and even
my wristwatch! Mayday!!!

This is it:
the best part
of my life has been
to be a mom;
for that profound
blessing
I am undeserving
but ever so grateful

Steady my
faltering nest,
keep me strong and
intact as the
chicks use their wings.

petals line sidewalks,
spent and beyond ripe, fallen
after much spring rain

how ordinary
everything seems until I
zoom in and look close

rain, rain, and more rain
green, green, and more green, rebirth,
renewal, refreshed

make a wish, and blow
make a promise, and remain
grounded through the storms

uninvited, he
held his ground perched on a bush;
I slithered indoors

To my Dad
in celebration of his
seventy-five years:
devoted,
steadfast,
hard-working,
heroic,
always
our rock
in stormy seas
and in calm waters.

remember when it was
just us?
when nothing else
mattered,
not the date
or the time
or the agenda
or the menu
or the wireless signal
or the politics?
remember when
I sneezed
and you said
God bless you
and there were no
echoes?
remember when time
stood still and you
stayed awake
and we both had enough
energy for anything
but we didn't bother
with most other things?
remember how
everytime one of us
said I love you
the other one said more
and we'd go back and forth
and back and forth
like that until
we made kids?
we used to be
just us
without the weight
of the whole world.

one of my favorite poems
was written by a son
to his mother
and in it

he said that
her hair
smelled like lilacs

if my son ever
wrote a poem
about me it would say
that I
smelled like chocolate

and that wouldn't quite
be the same,
would it?

like a butterfly
with wings outstretched, dogwood
blossom awaits flight