Spring woes

Rain drops pound on the streets

below ny hotel room, reminding

me of how lucky I am to be dry.

Winds buffet the windows:

throwing bits of dirt against the screens.

Gusts exceeding fifty miles an hour

blow vehicles into neighboring lanes.

I sit here thinking of home.

My heart reaches out to my cat,

Home alone in possibly a similar storm.

Does he cry for me as I do for him?

I want to go home.

As I stare out my windows I think

Of how far away I am.

I am sad inside yet enjoying

Being inside and warm.

Relativity

If I tell you I’m cold

you’ll die laughing,

for the temp is just

above fifty.

The nights drop down

to the high twenties,

and I shiver and shake

like Santa’s belly.

Thermals are my new

day time friends,

trapping body heat and

keeping me warm.

No-burn nights I hate,

for no crackling fire

toasts my toes, or

warms my buns.

Winter comes even here.

California’s sunny skies

are bright blue, crystal clear

beacons, dotted with clouds.

It’s all relative, you see.

While I moan about the cold,

You’re trapped in a deep-freeze,

with slick roads and piles of snow.

If I tell you I’m cold,

You’ll die laughing,

for the temp is just

above fifty.

The Gift

there are days when I

yearn for silence

no revving of motors or

screeching of tires

no planes lowering their

landing gear

as they begin their descent

 

no loud rap music

vibrating my windows with

its repetitive bass beats

no leaf-blower roar

or vacuum cleaner whine

 

I revel in each precious moment

of stolen time

as if the world stopped its

persistent revolution

simply for my enjoyment

 

when those seconds tick away

and the silence suddenly ends,

I feel as if I witnessed

a miracle

a rebirth

 

A Teacher’s Lament

I spoke with your teacher today,

And this is what she had to say:

Please tell Billy I like him a lot

But not when he licks each tiny spot

Of food off his plate.

It’s just plain gross.

 

It’s not polite to pick your nose

That’s why tissue’s good for blows

Putting snot between his teeth

Makes kids stare beyond belief.

You just don’t do it.

It’s just plain gross.

 

He needs to keep his shoes on his feet

The stench smells like rotten meat.

While in the playground yard

Children find it too hard

To forgive him.

It’s just plain gross.

 

People don’t put their hands on their butts

And scratch until they make big cuts

Blood through the clothes

And a stink up the nose.

It’s just plain gross.

 

 

As far as work, Billy’s losing out.

He wrinkles papers and runs about.

Seldom sits for more than a minute.

Pencils in places where they don’t fit.

He’s failing.

It’s just plain gross.

 

There’s not much more that I can say

Except that you should be on your way

To talk to Billy. tell him I care.

For him I’d go anywhere

To find him help.

He’s not that gross.

My Legacy

When I am gone what do I expect?

Do I want people to miss me? You bet.

But not for long.

I want them to think fondly

Of whatever good I might have done

To recall interesting experiences we shared,

But then I want them to move on,

Forging their lives as the independent people

I hope they are.

My legacy is formed by my writing,

My singing, my service to church,

My work as a teacher

Being mother, wife, friend.

That’s enough for one person,

Don’t you think?

I pray that I won’t leave behind

Too many memories of mistakes I made,

Too many thoughts of things I said

That hurt feelings

The times I wasn’t empathetic enough

The times when I was so self-focused

That I failed to see the worry in those around me.

That’s not the legacy I hope to leave behind.

I don’t hope for fame after I am gone,

Which is good as there will be none.

I am an ordinary person who lived an ordinary life.

That’s my legacy and that’s enough for me.

 

 

Reliability

Am I reliable?

I certainly hope so.

If I say I’m going to do something,

I do it unless something prevents me.

I value reliability in others.

People who blow with the wind

Annoy me.

When they invite me to join them,

I question whether or not to commit

For they are unpredictable.

They may be decent, upright people,

But they cannot be counted on

To9 follow through on the most basic

Of pledges.

It

S not that they are corrupt,

but because of the shifting nature of their whims,

they are not trustworthy.

When I look back, I wonder how often

I let someone down.

I’m positive that my grown kids

Would be able to list my many offenses.

For all of them, I am sorry.

I wish that I could redo all my mistakes,

All the ways that I have not modeled

The very reliability

That I cherish in others.

So

While I cannot alter what has been done,

I can be reliable

From here on out.

For that is how I want to be seen:

Reliable.