Trifling Realities Against All Odds

Trifling Realities Against All Odds

Our biggest tree in the backyard
Is just beginning to put out,
Swelling buds,
And shriveled, purple-looking
Leaf wanna-be’s.
Fig tree
Back near the fence,
Is decked out already,
Laughing in the spring breeze,
Derisively.
I knew it wasn’t dead,
Though I thought it would be a bitch
Without shade
On the deck this summer.
There hasn’t been a frost
In a month or so,
Almost certainly won’t be another
Until October earliest.
All kidding aside,
We need all the relief
We can get,
When the heat sets in…
So, I’m thankful,
Even in my ignorance.

I think about my mother sometimes.
Yesterday was Easter,
Under a magnificent blue sky.
My daughter’s disability
Creeps into my heart
Like a ragged, tired fog.
Our rituals,
Broken shadows
Against a mottled backdrop
That is racing by to some destination,
Unknown
But very far away.
And I realize
Our movement is simply relative.
I can only hope
The destination
Is better for her,
Like my mother’s embrace
That I can barely remember,
But know so well.

The sirens
Are calling me again…
Ropes taut
To restrain me.
It is not so much music,
Like Nero’s violin --
But rapt attention,
While the flames are
Dancing…
Beckoning.
The crew around me
Is anxious.
Not that I will fly away
But that I will stay,
And they will have to endure
The melody
That I dare not describe
Or play.