Angry women scare me
 a hard right punch takes me off guard
i duck best I can
but i can never see it coming

the acid in their stomachs rises to their mouths
and translates into poison
because they need, so badly, to spit
making this whole garden look like compost.

shit's just shit
i think
but more than anything i want the sun to burn
off all the ugly,

so stuff can grow

it's the light i count on
and once my feet get warm
it's just a matter of small time
until my ears burn.

The more I say, "I am here,

I am present"

the more the target is fixed

Who knew that when I decided to stand still

it was an agreement to accept the angst of the aggrieved?

A disclaimer is needed, I set myself up, cried out

"Bring it on!"

Thinking I was ready

When all I wanted was to feel my feet

firmly on the ground

and hear the quiet of my breathing as I drifted off each night

satisfied that each day was filled 

with love and the intent to do good.

On this sacred day you joked about the flower salesman at the ski lodge who said $39 when you asked about the cost of his bouquet

You said, "I'll just give her the money"

and forgot that my mother died today

and I was alone while you were skiing under brilliant skies, blue and sunny.

I sat on the deck and watched a hawk diving and squawking while crows chased

it under the same sky

The blue was the gift

the light was the warmth

and memory was its own embrace

We Accept This Time

as comfort

a place to reside

and move forward with routines

created in each day

We no longer discuss the importance

of time (at my request), rather, we take for granted that each day

will rise and fall with a leg draped over a hip

snuffly snores when pushed to the side

Taking for granted the pounding heart beside us

that skips in dreams

pretends not to wander

or wonder

But we never forget

What came before

Potent and passionate

Breathless

Fleshy and fearless

and that was before we reached the stairs.

Our new normal is angst and recovery

Frantic moments

Breath held while one affliction or another overcomes us

Briefly

We don't really panic, rather, we remain poised

Make jokes en route to our diagnosis

which is minimized by the professionals in response to

 our ability to make jokes in the first place

They love our banter, the disguise for fear that one thread pulled will unravel

our comfort

The insulation, which is our nights settling in

The haze that wraps around us

We quietly trip over our toes

and if we are lucky

we break the fall surrounded by loved ones who choose to look away.

this winter

chill has set in

we look for warmth where we can find it

curled up on the sofa with thick socks

and hot tea

something to read 

words to roam over

distracted by the settling

of our creaking house

that moans with its subtle moves

the fire in the furnace needs tending

but it's worth the effort 

to heat these wide boards

with creases filled with dust

and the dribbles 

that move over them

they drink the lives that settle in

and hear the laughter and angst

accept the daily clamor

and scattered mismatched rugs

we think of stews and soups and pies that

sit heavy in our bellies

with beef and broths

chops from the local butcher

peppered, seared

absorbing the juices

capered and lemony

gatherings at the wide table

local talk and plans for warmer days

or places

deep and longer sleep

between flannel sheets

and heavy quilts

always with a window open

to smell the dark and the moon

rising in clear skies sparkled with stars

that wink

sometimes I walk outside and stand in my stockinged feet

and just breathe this valley 

wood smoke

and generations 

settle in 

light snow falls

and there is no sound

not even a shoosh

when it touches the ground

The bird that swooped down in front of the car ahead of me the other day didn't stand a chance

My first impulse was to swerve

All I saw was tangled black and white matted feathers dropping in a straight line

I felt a responsibility to it

But before I could fully brake I wondered, "What?"

Could I see myself rescuing this tattered pile, scooping it up in my hands and trying to sort out a place to put it in my car that would allow it to be unencumbered, to possibly fly once it got its bearings and shook off the shock of impact?

There was no place to pull over and my head was already filled with what was left of a day

Conversations filled with riddles

Plenty of placating ( a type of rescuing for sure)

There was nothing there when I looked in the rear view mirror which was a relief

and the car in front was long gone.