the night sky explodes with color

black, blue, yellow, pink
ahs! and oohs! at every turn

you touched my heart

with your soft gray eyes
looking not quite at me
and deep inside

a taste

a little sweet
a little sour
a little tangy
just like life

halfway through the day

i realize that i've been
hurrying,
scurrying,
worrying through
and nearly missed it all.

nobody else showed up to practice yoga today

it was just me and the teacher
i was nervous to be so closely observed
what would she think?
would she think i was terrible?
would she think i was ugly?
would she think this was a total waste of her time?
"it doesn't matter what she THINKS," i reminded myself
"just do your practice."
i smiled and we began.
for 90 minutes she pushed me and pulled me and tweaked me
afterward as i lay in corpse pose i felt such gratitude
what a gift
the gift of 90 minutes

LAST

the word last has such finality to it
last day
last time
last goodbye
but last is a false concept for humans
we never really know what's last until the last moment
last beat
last breath
last word

i sit up - wild-eyed - in bed

i didn't write a small stone today!
i glance over at the clock
it reads 11:59 pm
yes, i did!
ah, now i can rest.

it's sunny outside

but inside i'm gray;
winds of depression,
a shower of tears.

it's been years

since i lay on the grass
watching the clouds go by
looking for shapes
noticing textures
feeling the movement
i could stay here forever

a harried man

carries a crying baby in one hand
so tiny and thin he must be a newborn
(his scrawny, dangling legs remind me of my son's when he was born)

in the other hand, a poopy diaper
he walks with determination and exhaustion
to the garbage can
i watch with a mixture of sympathy and terror
i remember those days

yesterday it was summer at noon

and winter by five o'clock.
this morning it was fall and pouring rain.
now, at six o'clock in the evening, it is spring,
sunny and lightly raining.
four seasons in twenty-four hours.

a black cat sits in a window

--framed, meditating.
i stop and stare for a moment
he turns to me as if to say,
"what are you looking at?"
then returns to his practice

two tiny sprigs of purple

surprise me at my desk
color and fragrance
mingle and delight

chanting OM

i come hOMe
to myself

i worry

that i am becoming addicted to small stones
as soon as i pick one up,
i look around for another

the warm sun on my arm

through the driver's side window
makes me feel young again
like my life is all ahead of me
and i could go anywhere

cuddling on the couch

reading comics with my boys
laughter bubbles up
bliss

you sat with me as i cried

thank you

when we said goodbye

you shook my hand
and sparks flew

the moment before zero

stephen tobolowsky talks about "the moment before zero" on npr.
i listen in stunned silence to a brilliant mind at work.

I awake

prematurely from a bad dream--
heavy, confused.
what is the truth?

alternachick texting

framed in the box office window
jet black pigtails
thick horn-rimmed glasses
scarlet lips
a photograph in my mind
entitled "seattle 2011"

calla lilly

poking your stark white head out from among the weeds
sticking your tongue out at me

walking across the grass barefoot

feeling blue
something shimmers--
two shiny pennies
a gift of hope

6 pools

warm, warmer, warmest
hot, hotter, hottest
rocks, trees, sand and butterflies
heaven in idaho

small stones ding the windshield of my life

making cracks in an otherwise busy day
one isn't enough

the smell of sagebrush

baking in the sun as we drive across eastern washington
clears the mind
like god's own smudgestick

exhaustion

covers my body like wet cement
i move, one slab at a time

my son

huge white teeth like chiclets in his smille
sweet

nepali chai

burns my lips with creamy sweetness
an unexpected treat

zoe yogurt

peanut butter swirled with chocolate
in a compostable cup--
doubly delicious.