Endless

The road home seems endless,
We are all suffused with the knowledge,
Of time well spent.
The movement of the ocean is becoming
Vague and distant,
We are putting our faces toward home.
Vacation is becoming already
A series of stories,
Little vignettes to be told over and over.
They will become part of the fabric,
Binding the family together.
Our trip is already a memory,
Of time well spent.

The Light House

I would like to bottle this
And keep it safe to savor later on.
The evening we sat watching the sea,
And also the preposterous light.
All it took was one of us noticing how
It flickered on and off.
Then the three of us were off and running.
It flickered because it had delusions of grandeur,
Thinking it was a lighthouse.
Much laughter accompanied this theory.
It wasn't long before the three of us were
Rooting for that light, encouraging it to stay on.
Telling it "You are just as good as those lighthouses"
Giggling hard as people walked by.
Degenerating into a song,
"I'm a little lighthouse, short and stout,
My light is on now, then it goes out"
Unable to breathe, we quit singing,
We have laughed so hard we are breathless.
On the walk home, another theory is posited,
All lighthouses start as little cement streetlights.
They then grow taller, eventually getting their plumage,
After their stripes come in, you might be lucky enough,
Maybe, to see their migration to the headlands.
We sweep in the door, all smiles and windblown.

Belonging

Pushing and pulling,
Pulsing energy comes back,
For one more round.
One more day of moving,
The giddy swirling, twirling,
Happiness, happening.
And then it slows,
A sedate pace of contentment,
Suffusing every cell,
Inhaled with every breath,
That solid moment,
The one that says so clearly,
You are precisely where you
Are supposed to be in this
Fragile moment of time.
Savor it, roll it around
On your tongue and taste,
The perfect blend of knowing.
Anchor your feet just so,
Lean into the wind.
Don't forget this moment,
It is few and far between,
And so worthwhile.

Quiet Solitude

How much I have craved this,
Total silence, so quiet,
I can hear the blood pumping
At least I think that is what it is.
Soft, easily familiar coursing sound.
And dark, how dark the house is,
All lights off, and only the reflected
Light from outside to relieve the silken darkness.
I am sure I should head for bed,
Sleep and get ready for tomorrow's
Chaotic fun, and noise.
But for now,
I choose to be selfish,
And just sit in the dark,
Revelling in the silence.

Beach

Sort of like a mermaid,
She emerged, not precisely human,
Seaweed covered legs,
Tangled hair,
Eyes fringed by water droplets.
It was misty that day,
Outlines softened,
As much by waves shushing,
As by anything else.
At first it was obvious,
She was of the sea,
And would be destined to return.
Slowly she began to form,
Closer, stepping closer,
Becoming something
Not quite of the sea,
And very much human.

Flashing

Blinding, flashing
Lighting the night.
I see a strike on a pole,
Exciting, daring.
Watching the lightning,
Rain pouring down.
Thunders' loudness,
A few moments of time
That feel like forever.

The Barren Lands

Slip on into the barren lands,
That place where nothing grows,
And plants won't seed.
The tough spot, comprised of rocks,
And heat and dusty grime.
The edges of stone are
Stark on the horizon,
Laid out end to end.
Sun beats down, drying everything.
Mouth, skin, eyes.
Not a drop of moisture is around.
Nothing is left.
Even the clear sky,
Really is not enjoyable,
For it has been baked out white.
Glaring sun, blistering down,
No spot of shade to cower in.
But wait, in that shadow,
Under that overhang,
A tiny spot, sheltered.
In that spot, there it is,
It sprouts, tiny, determined.
A greenish plant,
That I named hope.

That Moment

There is that moment that hits
Like a kick in the gut.
It is more than that though,
The sheer magnitude.
The phone call,
From the person who never calls.
The words I can't believe.
Once again, my brother,
Childhood nemesis,
Worlds best enemy,
Has sustained life-threatening injuries.
Typical of him, no one really knows
How it happened.
We know where, and that people saw.
That is all.
He is laid up in the hospital,
Aware, but not able to tell,
Silenced by the tube that lets him breathe.
Burned badly, hopefully recovering.
I try to push him to the back of my mind,
So I can function and do day to day things,
Which is all fine, and then it hits me.
And I picture him laying there,
And it doesn't really register,
Because the clearer picture is
All the stuff we got up to
Growing up.

A Park

River rushing sounds nearby,
Giggling children overlay that sound,
Trees stand tall shading tables,
Grass looks so green and living.
Butterfly graces my sons head,
Landing for a moment,
Leaving in an instant.
Enjoy the magical time,
And listen to the river rush.

Stop

Stop crying, now,
I'll give you something to cry about!
If you would just use the potty,
You would not have this problem!
Want me to give you something to cry about?

Wait, I want to say,
She is really little and it strikes me,
There is already plenty to cry about.
Mommy is mad, she doesn't know why.
She is getting hollered at for something
That everyone does.
Confusing, aggravating, embarrassing.

Stop yelling now,
I would like to give you something to yell about.
If you would just lay off the kid,
She will use the potty in her own time.
You are the one with the problem,
Want me to give you something to yell about?

Fire Dance

Late at night, the flames roared high,
As I approached, I saw the boy,
Spinning, stopping, waiting,
Hands up high, spinning again.
Slow approach as I watch him,
Knowing he will stop when I am spotted.
Again, he moves around the fire,
Spinning, unselfconscious,
Smile visible in the shadows.
At last, I give myself away,
And the wild dancer emerges
As my son.

The Box

Hi there, pardon me, yes,
Of course I remember you!
Excuse me, though,
I have carefully kept you in a box,
Preserved you just as you were.
Well, yes, less wrinkles for sure,
Oh, less mature, yes, of course.
I kept you in this box,
And nurtured every little hurt.
All the mean things you said.
I didn't let you grow up or out
Of those things.
I really did a great job saving it.
No, no. I didn't mean to do that!
It's just I spent so much time,
You know, back in school.
Lashing back at you,
Telling you off, feeling hurt.
It made no sense to keep all that,
But, what can I say?
I tend to hang on to things.
Yeah. That about covers it.
Wait, you say you did the same thing?
Oh, man. I guess I was a mean little shit.
I justified it, of course.
Here's a deal for you,
I will let you out of my box,
And you let me out of yours.
We can finally grow up,
Sounds good to me.