I don’t know if this story will have an end. No story does, really, you just have to decide when to stop telling it.
There is no reason for a car to be in the lot before I pull in this morning. The way it’s parked haphazardly in the far corner of the lot has me suspicious and worried. The building manager assures me, there is no reason for anyone else to be here. And I sit, fuming and frightened, in the car. What are the intentions of the SUV driver. Is he still in the car? (The dangerous unknown is always a guy, it seems) Is he armed? Because, now, it seems any snowflake with a sense of entitlement can go buy a gun and take out his tiny, tiny rage on innocents.
Continue reading “The Lone SUV (part 2)”
I’m frightened and furious, and it’s only 7:30 on a Tuesday morning.
The white SUV is parked cock-eyed in the far corner of the parking lot when I drive up the hill to work. It’s the only other car in the lot. I pause a moment. No one else should be in the parking lot this early. Anyone working inside the school usually parks by the door; anyone working outside on the grounds generally parks near the storage sheds.
So, what is that white SUV doing all alone over there?
Continue reading “The Lone SUV (part 1)”
I stand planted underneath
my twisted old apple tree
and peer up into late January.
Dark branches break open
the grey sky.
Too many branches mean
dense Summer leaves will choke
out July’s sunlight
any breeze will strangle and fall dead
encouraging disease and rot.
That’s no way to grow apples.
Continue reading “Apples in January”
This chill mid-winter wind startles
the last of Summer’s leaves loose,
a surging flow in flight,
from trees clustered along my homeward drive.
Twisting together, like smoke, they move
and wind along and above this darkening lane Continue reading “January Rising”
We stand together at the brink of December’s end. The year of 2017 is lurching, exhausted, to a close. With a mix of relief and of trepidation I prepare to turn the last calendar page of 2017 to uncover January 2018. I feel more than a bit hesitant to let another year in after the chaos we are preparing to sweep out the door. Continue reading “Standing Back to Back”
Things that remind me of my age:
1. Forgetting what it was I just went upstairs for.
2. Changing the radio station, again, because, “That’s not music, it’s just noise.” Then, stopping on a station that’s playing a song that I didn’t particularly like back in the 80’s, but at least I recognize it.
3. Feeling proud of the adults my children have grown into and wondering when they grew into adults. I must have blinked.
4. Wondering how in the heck I hurt my back while I was sound asleep.
5. Forgetting what I just went downstairs for.
6. Having a medicine cabinet that contains both heat wraps and muscle relaxants because I have the amazing ability to walk up with back spasms.
7. Forgetting what it was I just went upstairs for.
This small life in my hand, she unfurls from her small center.
She is readying to reach out in all directions; like, ripples
that uncurl across the surface of still water from a single stone. Continue reading “The Center Holds”
There’s something to be said
for the joy and
the courage to choose
which side of the lines
to color in.
Photo Credit: Anita Bowen Photography
Some tangled problems
you leave behind
behind in time and in space.
Some days, you give permission
to walk away.
Some day you find you are free
then, you are found.
Photo Credit: Anita Bowen Photography
The sign says, ‘Ball Point Trail’.
“Who names a hiking trail after a pen?” I wonder as we pull into the gravel parking lot.
I imagine some historic ball point pen inventor or maybe a writer. I consider a famous historical, nature-loving philosopher with deep, deep thoughts regarding pens.
But, on second glance, the sign reads, ‘Bull Point Trail’, not as interesting as a trail named after writing utensils. Continue reading “Ball Points”