What I Wanted To Tell You, One Tuesday


What I Wanted To Tell You, One Tuesday

I went to meet the sky last night
Awash in bold pink, we could not look away
An eighth world wonder sort of night
At 7:51 she came to tell a story
Skywriters capture messages in a language I am still learning
But you see this as hyperbole mixed with cliche through your veil of gloom
Fools run out into the night, while pink rains down
(He went to see it too. We are both fools).

Miles away a friend wrote
Told me what I did not see
A double rainbow
No big deal
And yet it is
I did not decide this. The counter of odds and percentages and trackers of skywriter’s journals call it rare.

Blinded by beauty I missed the more beautiful

I wanted to tell you it is there for you too

But you insist on seeing with one eye closed

That is not what I wanted to tell you on a Tuesday
It was that I hope you are around to see the next pink sky
And the one after that
And double portions of scientific cool stuff
And glory

It was this too
You are more beautiful than all of it
And I am a fool

Curating A Simple Life


Curating A Simple Life

While the cheese toast begins to bubble under the broiler

And the tip tops of the Himalayan Mountains parade through the Instagram Feed
The child plans the trip to Spain
(as your suitcase morphs into a receptacle for dust bunnies and household tumbleweeds)
The pro’s and con’s of matters of state and faith
Land in a rubbled heap

The teams have been picked
And you sit on the bench
Warm, where the bystanders go

I remember asking him
Yet, not really so

The trips in the black of night
Dark the color of two thirty a.m.
I find my way lit by the light of his song

He is out of tune with the world
As am I

Why, I asked does he sing at night
A morning song
(I know the whip-or-will well)
Utterly confused is the night-owl

But he sees the light

And decides to sing

When your heart beats at the rate of simple
Mysteries present themselves
Questions bolden-up
Deciding to invite you into the mystery
Determine to unfurl complex curiosities
At your aging size 9 feet

You see glory all around
Places you used to go bump in the night
Stumbling around in the metaphorical dark

Day after day

And pray
No one turns out the light

By which the lone bird sings
Leaving the slice of avocado off your toast

Decisions made
As curator of your one simple life

Joining Laura