She would send me photos/
of tall SoCal tropical trees/
silhouetted in the red sunset;/
dancing in the warm sea breeze.
As if to entice me/
to visit and to stay./
To warm my feet in the sand/
and watch the palm trees sway.
I returned the photo favor/
of a frigid, streaming sunrise:/
A frosted cottonwood silhouetted/
against cold blue mountain skies.
T’was not to tempt her, nor to say I was coldly sad,/
but to remind her to be grateful for the warm beauty she had.
I’m grateful for a/
Dad and Grandma who helped me/
see hidden nature.
Death
of my
battery.
When your mother
keeps the car trunk light
on
for 2 days,
that’s what happens.
And what Chrysler engineer
had the idiot idea
to put the battery
in the driver’s-side
wheel well,
behind a splash guard,
with no easily-accessible
screws?
Stupidhead.
I was furious.
45 minutes
and 2 screws out,
6 to go,
I was worse.
I walked home.
I was cold.
I was angry.
Then I met the guy
who was a few blocks away
from getting on the freeway.
He stopped at a stop sign,
and his axle on his old van
broke,
and his front wheel
fell off.
And he was grateful.
“It could have been
so much worse.
I was blessed.”
He was right.
And now I’m grateful
and blessed.
As I sit in church/
next to my goodly parent/
I feel gratitude.
Or
My spirit’s grateful.
While I’m grateful for/
her time, I don’t want to be/
her Saturday slot.