The sun burns my neck.

The horizon shimmers in the distance.

Sweat stings my squinting eyes.

The horizon is waiting.

My feet are bleeding.

The horizon never gets closer.

Maybe if I rest.



My Youngest

Skin and bones and brown eyes and messy hair.

Hugs and kisses and tickles and giggles.

I feel you in my arms.

Can you feel me holding you?

I’m here buddy, I’m here





My Middle

You are all girl.

All striped leggings and pink tops, peace signs and bracelets.

You are art and music and word games.

You know so much, maybe too much for a child.

And your depth continues to amaze me.

You are like the most amazing stained glass, beautiful and complex.

I lay awake worried about your fragility.

There are a lot of bad people carrying rocks.

How can I keep them away?

Chasing Fine

It sounds like my voice, but it can’t be.

Someone just asked me how I was doing and I said, “Fine”.

Fine is an elusive figure, shrouded in a wispy cape.

There it is! Behind a tree.

I crawl on my belly to the tree.

I snap quickly with my outstretched hand.

I can feel it! The fabric feels so soft, so warm.

It slips through my grasp, the scent of it lingers.

Why did I have  to feel it? Now I need to keep chasing it.

There it is! Behind a rock. It’s back is to me.

Maybe this time. Maybe if I am ever so quiet…