a spoon in each hand
eyes and mouth open circles:
hungry morning babe

*

you laugh when you fall
clap for yourself, dance and sing--
i learn joy from you.

*

i see toys, clothes, mess.
you see your story's landscape:
chaos drives your plot.

*

bright green light: morning
small voices wake me from dreams
greet me with their grins.

*

a flurry of feet
two hands grasp and drag and reach
toys disappear: clean!

*

fingers find balance,
find pressure and direction,
pull red across page.

*

blue and purple lines
flowers, laser guns, rainbows:
art and story meet.

*

twilight swims in greens
glass dark water, shadowed pines
night finds the lake first.

adults watch, talk, laugh
catch moments with pixels, words:
children just run free.

*

boys in a long line
run after one another,
chasing just because

*

boys in swimming trunks
run laughing beneath blue sky
forging first friendships.

*

purest of delights:
cupcakes, slip n slide, presents.
you're only five once.

breeze flows across lake
carries cut grass, warmed earth
remember this, now.

*

his first fearless leap:
he laughs, leaves the dock behind.
i let go. again.

*

turning over leaves
wind traces tree silhouettes,
reveals silver.

*

light arranges time
shifts water and memory
until circles touch.

July moon rises
pulls mountain air over you
a blanket of chill

*

today is empty
too full of shifting targets
i can't find the words

*

he throws himself up
into the summer noon air
i catch him each time.

*

just me, the birds, the low sun
painting dim shadows over
words upon the page.

*

i rise like whispers
tip toe toward my self at dawn.
they sense me and wake.

*

so many blessings
far beyond what i deserve
yet, this heavy heart.

*

the baby crying
the little boy full of "why";
try to reach through fog.

closed curves of his eyes,
his dreams the parentheses
start and end his day.

*

i kiss your shoulders
as they curve around your dreams,
you smile in your sleep.

in the secret hours
between your dreams and morning
i come when you call.

*

so complete, this love:
you need warmth, comfort, my voice
i need only you.

*

lately i don't know
where did this temper come from?
this rage in my throat?

*

picture book lion
all yellow claws, teeth and mane:
baby growls back.

*

surrounded by sons:
flying objects, sounds, needs.
in my head, alone.

rain falls on the lake,

a thousand circles rippling.

i watch them kiss you.

*

you crawl on the shore,

watch your brother jump from raft.

you smile and make plans.

*

end of day hunger

as fresh and vast as the lake

that exhausted you.

wake up in motion

open eyes mean time to move

how fast night passes.

*

find new ways to name

parts of you that challenge me:

"spirit", "passion", " "strength".

*

alone with your blocks,

you discover gravity

and your own power.

*

vise around my breath

releases me when you smile,

when your eyes meet mine.

*

"it feels good to yell,"

my son patiently explains.

"it gets the mad out."

*

picking raspberries

I remember not to force

fruit before its time.

bedroom: windowed trees,

rising sun, green cathedrals

my sons, living prayers.

*

morning, a new space:

yesterday's materials

sculpted into new.

*

sunlight on your face

finds new paths from brow to mouth--

sleeping changes you.

*

daily news of the world:

we are murdering our home

just by sitting here.

*

i can't imagine

what will take the place of blue,

the oceans, the sky?

*

all tucked in at last;

fourteen hours together

still, i am in awe.

"now, listen to me!"

such a strong sense of himself

in only four years.

*

mouth immersed in cold

pink ice cream coats his whole face

joy shines from his eyes.

*

summer, this season

first discovery of self

running free through heat.

how much more of me

can i question and reshape

before i am gone?

*

some days i am clay

needed and kneaded by hands:

they pull me apart.

*

talking with mothers--

so far from our intentions:

how did we get here?

*

tired baby sings

humming himself into sleep,

just wired that way.

children murmur sleep

lightning flares round curtain edge

summer storm arrives.

your cry circles me

the spiraling rise and fall--

sleep is not easy.

*

i count ten minutes

tip toe past your quiet breaths;

not long enough: cries!

*

at camp or napping

both boys content without me.

dishes and laundry: free time.

toe polish peels off,

no time now for pampering

poison vanities.

*

our tired bodies

muscles ache from leaping waves:

ocean afternoon.

*

some days there is time

to pin down these tornadoes

in seventeen syllables.

*

my violent voice-

i wish i could take it back,

pull it from their ears.

*

shaking, ashamed, sad:

i don't recognize myself

mirrored in wide eyes.

*

after enough sleep

the spirit is rested, calm-

all is possible.