Fork in the Road

she planned
she made lists
she watched the weather
she read her cards
she threw the runes
she read her chart
she checked Google Earth
she called her broker
she made a will

she alerted the neighbors

and after it all -
the planning
the lists
the research
the preparation

she still encountered a fork in the road

Daffodil

http://www.magpietales.blogspot.com/

daring little bud

smothered with snow

buffeted by winds

stepped on near the footpath

persevere, persevere

it murmurs

at last a cold bright sun

go for it

jump out there

stand tall

Spring

Spring by A. Mucha

Like champagne uncorked
Like stones skipped on still water
Like baby's first gasp of air
Like the chick's head emerging
Like the pink glow of dawn
Like the orchestra warming up
Like the smell of  new crayons
Like the fern unfurling
Like nothing else

Spring has sprung!

She who...

needed: new friend

who has cooked at least 30 turkeys
who has washed cloth diapers
who remembers Elvis's TV debut
who knows what no money means
who has stolen a pineapple from the field
who has changed sizes at least five times
who counts their chicks no matter how old
who cries for those in nursing homes
who worries about her own old age
who has had at least three hair colors
who weeps at figure skating
who longs for Tuscany
and who is willing to still dream

purpose: endless laughter and conversation

Faces

face book
book of faces
losing face
facing off
facedown
options
settings
blocked faces
fan pages
pages of fans
lists of friends
no one talking
about anything real

social networking?

American Quality

http://www.magpietales.blogspot.com/

she had

Polish blond hair,

Ukrainian cheekbones

the nose of invaders to the steppes

an accent out of Ellis Island

a cuisine of peasant fare

the skill of tatting and embroidery

the work ethic of immigrants

the storytelling of  the uprooted

the songs of the balalaika

the memories of church festivals 

and the Madonna

she  kept some treasures, she discarded others

she melded the rest into

American Quality

If I were...

If I were a month I’d be May
If I were a day I’d be Saturday
If I were a time of day I’d be noon
If I were a planet I’d be Venus
If I were a sea animal I’d be an otter
If I were a direction I’d be west
If I were a piece of furniture I’d be a table
If I were a liquid I’d be chicken soup

If I were a gem stone I’d be an emerald
If I were a tree I’d be a maple
If I were a tool I’d be a hammer
If I were a flower I’d be a lady slipper
If I were an element of weather I’d be a spring rain
If I were a musical instrument I’d be an oboe
If I were a color I'd be purple
If I were an emotion I’d be joyful
If I were a fruit I’d be an apple
If I were a sound I’d be a baby's laugh
If I were an element I'd be earth
If I were a car I’d be a Beemer
If I were a food I’d be mashed potatoes
If I were a place I’d be Western Massachusetts 

If I were a material I'd be Thai silk
If I were a taste I’d be salty
If I were a scent I’d be gardenia
If I were a body part I’d be eyes
If I were a song I’d be the blues.
If I were a bird I'd be a crow
If I were a gift I'd be a book
If I were a city I'd be in Bavaria
If I were a door I'd always be open
If I were a pair of shoes I’d be flip flops

If I were a poem I would be free verse

And what would you be?

Self Worth

www.lisisoft.com/.../292spring_600.jpg

reflecting
on years of living large

leaving that ham
on the young couple's doorstep

writing an affirmation
and tying it to a tree in Sequim

trying that spin on ice
breaking my knuckle

walking in wet snow
on the cobblestones of old Augsburg

easter baskets  for the kinder
German fields with real bunnies

skiing off that glacier peak
with my fear of heights

near running down that Alaskan mountain
following Lana's footsteps

eating watermelon for dinner
in a crappy trailer park

receiving that check
with no strings to finish graduate school

watching film premier at Toronto
gut wrenching Mother's pride

my life has proven me worthy
of magic, of passion, of love

how else to measure one's life?

That old woman's hand

 Willow's Magpie Thursdays

I catch myself
staring at this strange claw
bumpy and curled
whose hand is this
when did this happen
there's the broken knuckle
from ice skating
and that scar from an old burn

nails that never get long
dirt from the garden
veins protruding
clay dried in creases

this hand surely must
belong to some old woman

Turquoise

Your skin can feel it  from the air
each pore gets itchy
knowing soon
it will be warm and wet
something about
that sparkling water
maybe magic Atlantis
or maybe just pure pleasure

how fast the dull gray
is replaced with
turquoise

for CJ and P 2010

Twenty Six Years and Counting

two ole crows
caw caw
picking up the scraps
living large
taking care
keeping watch
caw caw
doing together
one day at time
no wedding
no contracts
just love and trust

ah

to Lana on 26 years