NaPoWriMo, Day Thirty, the end…

Always a bittersweet moment when the end of NaPoWriMo comes, but stay tuned for more and thanks for coming by this month to check out the poetry and painting!

Waiting for May

The last of April has come once more
a flirtatious whirl of sun and green
uncertain moments, pleasure’s relaxation
after many rounds of shaky romance
the pleasure of sitting on brown earth
does not recede, nor is it softer but
still it’s that april-spring moment, yearly
unlooked for, unplanned, not so recognized
but unconsciously celebrated for
what it is – that moment when the earth turns
the air softens, the world holds out its arms
and again whispers come sit with me
and the body, having marked time’s passing
says, hello, don’t mind if I do. Thank you.

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NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-nine

There was a lot of this “No one could have known…” floating around yesterday as a meme, but mine took a different path.

No one could have known that a childhood and
all could have landed past middle-age in
a red-hot moment and without any fuss.
No one could have known that after romance
and the pain and the trying to make it work
that love can end and life goes on anyway
No one could have known that regret is real
regret is real and forgiveness so hard
to forgive the past harder, to let go
No one could have known that forgiveness
is sometimes just accepting the facts
and cutting loose the pain, being free
No one could have known that all lessons done
leave plenty of room for more lessons to come.

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-eight

Tonight, everything seemed to have changed to green

The Green Party

Suddenly the world is green
and it will be greener still
for days the woods have hung
out lace and put on blush
festooned birches with tassels
this morning a few green shrubs
tonight green everywhere!
tonight the owls and peepers party!

NaPoWriMo Day Twenty-seven

I saw the twists of lilies of the valley coming up by the diner this morning and remembered the side yard of my paternal grandparent and my father’s aunt and uncle’s house.

Lilies of the Valley

By the steps, bound with wooden planks,
whorls of leaves appearing suddenly,
fiercely and unreasonably optimistic.
In another side yard, years ago
these same pointed spikes of green
equally dogged and determined and light
filled a barren yard where in summer
the ancient catalpa would cast darkness
so complete, no grass ever grew
but in April and afterward these leaves
arise, an undisturbed tradition, rising
to provide for may day and mothers day
the most fragrant and cherished bouquet.
Here, in my own yard, they endeavor
cheered perhaps by daffodils before them and
holding within those tightly twisted leaves
everything they need to delight the nose
and fill glasses on windowsills everywhere.

NaPoWriMo Day Twenty-six

Daffodils slowly extinguishing
hope released, now fading
the forsythia have bloomed
sturdy and sunny and
along the house shy Fairy Wings –
paler yellow, briefly flowers
until its leaves fill
the side garden with hearts.
The one clump of bluebells
pale blue and pink cups is
finally taller than the
daffodil spikes but they’ll both
go down to hostas and day lilies
so turns the garden’s year./blockquote>

NaPoWriMo Day Twenty-five and My Tuesday

rain on a Tuesday
wind makes it chilly
tree buds just showing color
below a swatch of ski-slope
more rain tonight
but driving home
forsythia
splattered against
hedgerows and yards
splashed across
the wet pavement
and still-dark woods.

Today I went to pick up three books I won at auction at the Milne Library book sale. Then, the plan, weather permitting was to paint on the hill overlooking the Clark. If the weather didn’t permit I figured I could always go inside to the two exhibits I missed last time. The weather held – no rain at least – so I trudged up the hill and set up and started to paint. It was very windy. I had to make a few adjustments to batten everything down after my board with paper tried to fly away. I finished the first landscape and decided to try the Crystal by Thomas Schütte – an installation which is inspired as I recall by New England-y sheds. I walked up the path and found a double door on the back and there I was, inside looking out through the opposite opening. And, conveniently there’s a bench along one of the other walls. So I set up there thinking it nice to be out of the occasional sprinkles and a little more protected, when a burst of wind blew through the opening and pushed out through the two doors. How very exciting. There were two couples that wandered up the path and through the Crystal too but they weren’t anywhere near as exciting as the wind.

View from the Crystal by Thomas Schütte

By the time I started down the hill again I was pretty darn cold. I dumped the painting stuff in the car while wondering if the museum cafe was still open. As soon as the hatchback of the fiat closed, I knew the keys were inside. Started AAA on the way, found out the cafe was closed, warmed up a little inside the building and then went out to wait. Young guy showed up in his big tow truck and had the front door open in no time. His first Fiat, he said.

Drove home. Ordered a few more watercolor supplies. (That’s it. I’m done unless I run out of something. Seriously. No more!) Watched The Voice. Write my NaPoWriMo poem while drinking some peppermint tea. Now I’m going to heat up the bed and go finish The Martian.

NaPoWriMo Day Twenty-four

This image hit me on the way home.

driving home

the houses run through the trees
to meet those driving home.
they may not know the journey,
carefully matching the
straight and turning pavement
with the lean of the car
but they bide and welcome.
the yellow eyes in the woods
unblinking, watching, waiting
can they call out the
one set of tires, the
singular motor,
the muffled radio
knowing the one they seek
The houses run through the night
lights weaving through the trees
then back to its normal perch
and it opens a door, come in!