for feeder

where the road takes you

Posted on Tuesday, April 19, 2016

where the road takes you

The road to my grandparents’ house was the steepest climb I’d encountered. It wasn’t because I was young and the world seemed to maximize itself in front of my maturing eyes – it really was a steep hill. Each time mother’s blinker clicked to turn left after we exited the 15, her foot dug deep into the pedal just as my fingers sunk into the plush fabric of her white Mazda minivan.

They lived at the highest point of a private development in Escondido. The time my grandfather decided to buy his home, Escondido was nothing but a town of dust, cacti and outcast residents who couldn’t

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garden roses

Posted on Friday, April 15, 2016

garden roses

You sit on the table. You and your peach skin, soft and constantly opening. I savor your presence knowing you’re only here a while longer. In a while, you will shed all of yourself and die. Perhaps that is the way each of us comes and goes. Our little hearts, so tightly closed until we have no more effort left and must trust, open, surrender. Once we have, others enjoy our true nature. Your scent reaches me across the table. A ladybug lands on you. I open the windows and share you with the breeze. It is what spring gives us. Hope. Life.

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landing the job of mom

Posted on Monday, April 4, 2016

landing the job of mom

Today I sweep a bird beak the size of a cat’s claw. My broom pushes tiny feathers, a blend of gloomy grey and sunburst yellow – an American Goldfinch, no heavier than a child’s small toy. Just yesterday I watched it singing from the backyard, and today it has become pieces of dust to be collected with sandwich crumbs from today’s lunch, and, every now and then, a raisin or blueberry that seem to have glued their way to the floor from who knows how long ago.

It’s not just the sweeping; it’s the wiping too. Today I wipe mustard stains from my son’s lips, cheeks and chin.

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accepting this (mark nepo)

Posted on Friday, January 15, 2016

accepting this (mark nepo)

Yes, it is true. I confess,
I have thought great thoughts,
and sung great songs—all of it
rehearsal for the majesty
of being held.

The dream is awakened
when thinking I love you

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the house of belonging (david whyte)

Posted on Sunday, December 27, 2015

the house of belonging (david whyte)

I awoke
this morning
in the gold light
turning this way
and that

thinking for
a moment
it was one
day
like any other.

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escape plan

Posted on Sunday, November 1, 2015

escape plan

We skilled prisoners.

We, packed with our bulky suitcases of expectations,

our years upon years of planning out the road written for us.

Each day we polish silver rings around our wrists,

their grip so tight from the swelling of running

and tugging against our very selves.

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the second music (annie lighthart)

Posted on Saturday, August 22, 2015

the second music (annie lighthart)

Now I understand that there are two melodies playing,
one below the other, one easier to hear, the other

lower, steady, perhaps more faithful for being less heard
yet always present.

When all other things seem lively and real,
this one fades. Yet the notes of it

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on children (kahlil gibran)

Posted on Sunday, April 19, 2015

on children (kahlil gibran)

Your children are not your children.

They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.

They come through you but not from you,

And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

 

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,

For they have their own thoughts.

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waxing and waning

Posted on Saturday, March 21, 2015

waxing and waning

In the library of my home

I spend hours digging and searching

as if a book or even a final sentence

will give me what it is I hope to find.

Some days books are sorted by category:

… Parenting

Poetry

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famous (naomi shihab nye)

Posted on Saturday, February 21, 2015

famous (naomi shihab nye)

The river is famous to the fish.

The loud voice is famous to silence,
which knew it would inherit the earth
before anybody said so.

The cat sleeping on the fence is famous to the birds
watching him from the birdhouse.

The tear is famous, briefly, to the cheek.

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so much happiness (naomi shihab nye)

Posted on Tuesday, February 17, 2015

so much happiness (naomi shihab nye)

It is difficult to know what to do with so much happiness.
With sadness there is something to rub against,
a wound to tend with lotion and cloth.
When the world falls in around you, you have pieces to pick up,
something to hold in your hands, like ticket stubs or change.

But happiness floats.
It doesn’t need you to hold it down.
It doesn’t need anything.

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a love offering

Posted on Sunday, February 8, 2015

a love offering

I am a seed in the feeder.

Though there are thousands –

each of us with our striped backs, crisp

coats and fatty filling –

on this particular day, this sparrow

chose me.

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reflections after reading a daily intention

Posted on Monday, February 2, 2015

reflections after reading a daily intention

Today I am asked to witness

Those around me that I am not:

 

The shiny black coat of my pet

Cat moves towards me on all fours.

Nuthatches and finches shift

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dainty wings

Posted on Tuesday, January 27, 2015

dainty wings

It is a morning where even sunlight is too tired to wake. Not quite dawn, he tucks his bright sun-face behind the sheets of clouds as if masking himself from his duties of his endless days. It is a morning where I now decide I would have changed the night before, cupping my hands around the walls of a warm teacup instead of a the stem of hefty glass of wine, I should have fallen asleep two hours earlier, instead of choosing a few more moments awake, alone.

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we rise

Posted on Thursday, October 2, 2014

we rise

Each morning we rise the same way.
Our footsteps tiptoe along damp floorboards
Careful not to walk too loudly
As to please the one that wipes the dust left from days before.

We take these tired feet into the world
Cover them with straps, secure Velcro, lace sneakers,
Slip our insecurities
Into the safety of hiding our true selves.

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