The Zen Mother

 She screams at her kids,

“you do not know what Zen is,

lousy grasshoppers!”

A Different March

I sit by the window

regarding the blackened bougainvillea,

comatose hibiscus and ruined roses,

my foot drumming to the beat

of a different March.

Not Sousa or Strauss,

but the pulse of an impatient Spring,

bulging with color and perfume and life,

eager to repair winter’s destruction.

* * *

The Stranger's Eyes

The stranger's eyes beckon,
like the muddy rain puddles
she loved to splash in as a child,
her red rubber boots
and raincoat keeping her dry,
as she squealed with delight.

She wants to drown in those eyes
and die in his absolution,
desperate to believe
that her husband
has nothing to forgive her.

*****

Before Breakfast

My imagination
couldn't encompass
a world without you,
or finding you that way,
with yesterday's newspaper,
cold coffee
and oatmeal
waiting for you
at your solitary table.

Forgetting Her Husband

Forgetting her husband,
she inhales the stranger's words
like pheromones.

A delicious tingle stirs,
erasing thought,
desire expanding
from pinpoint
to saturation
in seconds.

Her pulse and his music
come together,
like jasmine vines,
drunk on the scent
of their own blooms.

Tightly twisted
in a slow-motion dance
of mutual seduction,
they inch skyward,
rising,
rising,

until gravity
will no longer be
denied
and they tumble down
amidst the other vines

clinging to a rotting fence.

feather (modern haiku)

a feather settles
on dusty winter ground
birds follow sun

One Week Old

The new year is now a week old. Too early to tell what it's going to be when it grows up. Today it woke up gray and overcast, almost like winter. McAllen, Texas is one of the few places where a day like this is celebrated as a climatic breakthrough. While most of the country bundles up and struggles with snow and ice, the sun almost always shines here (sometimes too much!) I hear a Great Kiskadee calling outside, and though I can't see him, I know that his bright yellow vest is all the sun I really need today.

Return

Hello All,
I've been away from this blog for quite a while. I've been very involved with the poetry forum on Poem.Org and have neglected this blog in the process. To those of you who have been faithful followers all this time, thank you. To any newbies who find their way here, welcome. I'll definitely try to be a little more regular in my posting from now on.

Submission

The past,
a seductive lover,
beckons, "come".
 
The present 
submits,
minute by minute.
 
The future knows 
it's only a matter
of time...