Blue Tarp

Through my back wall
i hear hammering. Sawing. Voices.
A new roof. Blue
tarp finally gone.

Easter Dinner 2020

A moment of stress at what would 
have been arrival time.
A tiny ham. A tiny zucchini. 
Just enough fixings for the 
two of us. 
Dinners cooked and
served in five homes.
A moment of
sadness we can't gather.
Gratitude we are all well 
and alive.

Spring Shower

The wind 
whirls, swirling 
a grey green 
shower of pollen.

Killing Vampires

With waterbugs, I scream and call my husband 
to kill them. 
If he's not home, I manage to smash them 
myself. 
With vampires, I shudder to 
think about it, killing that 
chicken was hard enough. 
Unable to use a bow and arrow, I'd 
have to drive a stake through their heart.
that is quite close quarters. I hope 
I am never called to make that decision, 
to kill or become a vampire.

Thanks to Tasha at Tasha’s Thinkings for the post on killing vampires for getting my thoughts to run in this vein. Which they usually do not.

Dancing in the time of plague

my brother-in-law called yesterday 
morning from my driveway.
just dropping 
by to say 
good morning in this time of plague.

i saw them through the 
windows, suave and urbane. glad
I was dressed with
hair combed.

beside their car, they
began dancing, laughing 
music turned up 
they were a party in my driveway.

music down, we stood talking, 
me next to my car, they 
next to theirs. far
enough apart to be safe from
any stray virus we might be carrying.

it was the first time i'd seen them
since the quarantine - a month? two
months? it's hard to remember any more. 
their dog in the back seat. wondering 
why and where.

they'd just been by and waved at the grandkids 
through the windows. i wished for the porch
chairs and the little tables in idlewild.
i could serve tea and we'd sit, each at our 
table, and talk in the yard. ten feet apart.
just in case.

Where I Lived

Golden leaves on trees on the shore of the Mill River. Snow as high as the porch. 

Belle Isle picnics, watching freighters on the Detroit River. The green canopy of Elm trees. A snow ball bush, an apple tree and cabbages in my grandparent's yard. Snow that fell all winter long and didn't melt until late March. 

Exploring second growth woods across from the cottage. Swimming across the lake in the summer and skating in winter. Fishing from the dock. The waves of Lake Michigan washing fish up on the cement walk to the Ludington light house. The Northern lights playing over the yard. So many stars. The shades of deep purple, maroon and brown of oak leaves. The red and yellow of Maples in the fall.

The Angel Oak and hanging moss. Sand dollars in the ocean. The totally dark night time roads of the sea islands. Fresh fish. Shrimp. Sand dunes and sea grass and the rise and fall of the tides.

Red dirt roads. The smell of pine trees in the heat of summer. Pecan trees. Huckel berries and black berries. Ticks.

Walking around Watkins Mill lake and down by the Fishing river. Snow and ice and slippery hills in winter.

Waterfalls,mountains,lakes and woods. So hard to get to for me, but then there are the many trees in my yard. The sun and sky and stars over all.

Up Hill Both Ways

The bare branches of the elms arched 
over the sidewalks when we 
walked those blocks to
school in the winter. Down 
Calvert, across 
Linwood. Sometimes we
cut across Central's field. That's
how Carol lost her boot 
in the snow. Her brother
Ralph got the beating for it.