Late night
starry lights
shine at Christmas.
Neighbors trees
illuminate me
as I pass.
My friends I’ve left.
I feel bereft
and moan “Alas!”
To whom shall I turn?
They won’t return
who I’ve sassed.
I shouldn’t turn away.
I should let my heart stay
open at Christmas.
Seeking strength,
I went to my Temple.
Upstairs,
the signal
was never strong.
But today,
when I needed it most,
it was five bars,
loud and clear.
I sat,
by myself,
in my corridor,
(having met Santa twice already),
and connected
more than I have in awhile.
Soon,
after being surrounded
by art
(Russian Impressionism),
tuba,
Utah Lake mud tile,
and children,
I will go find milk
and a cookie.
This is worship.
This is connection.
This is receiving
the signal
at the Temple.
I make her fruit crisp./
She wants lobster bisque. I’m sweet./
She is just crabby.
My heart
is hyper-active.
Didn’t you know that?
At about 6 a.m. tomorrow
Dr. Wang
will run a catheter near
there,
up,
into my heart.
He will scar me
from the inside
so the dance
that my heart has done
for decades
will stop,
and I’ll finally
have
rhyyyyyy
thummmm.
(Beat.
Beat.)
Doo whop
Beat).
Can you imagine me
with more energy
and life
than I have
already?
That’s what “they”
say.
The only question I have is this:
Is this the best way
to let people know?
The class said we could/
“Change Everything”. Recycling/
litter is a start.
As the golfer waits/
to die,/
I cry,/
then go play/
the back nine/
in his honor.
We threw milkweed pods/
and our hands in the air, and/
laughed like kids. They are.
——-
How this haiku happened: Someone posted a Meme saying: “You’re never childless, when you have a Husband”. I responded:
“This was offensive to me… until I started to look at it in a positive light.
Yes, I do act like a child sometimes. Maybe often.
This morning I turned off the bathroom lights and took a shower in the dark to the light of the setting full moon.
Yesterday my great-nephew and niece and I “put our hands in the air” and danced driving in my convertible all the way through town.
I bring home the bacon and am responsible (I have a mortgage that’s nearly paid off), but have a child-like glee in life. I’m kind, tender-hearted, and like to make jokes and have fun.
I’ll play in the sand with Tonka trucks, and stop to look at a bug on a sunflower.
Yesterday I showed these kids about milkweed pods, and as we drove away, we threw parachutes to the sky and giggled when they swirled around our heads in the wind vortex my ragtop-down created.
“For such is the Kingdom of Heaven”, Jesus said.
Maybe that’s not a bad thing.
Sarah Palin can/
see Russia from her back yard./
I hear the freeway.
Eyes closed, I compose./
Should I join blind poets, or/
squint myopically?
Bucky, Cosmo/
and Bono?/
Doin’ a U2 Vertigo/
show/
in Provo?/
I don’t know,/
but say that it’s so!/
I’d go,/
doncha know?!
(Go Badgers Go!)