Tuesday, December 24, 2013


How the end of a year pops up,
a burst of sun,
crisp air,
Four pm light at two in the afternoon,
the feeling of an approaching turn, near but not yet there.
It is a good end of year,
Lily and I in California,
taking in tall grass, rocks and sand.
She is busy dragging branches with her courtesy sisters
building fairy houses and straddling craggy rocks, anchored soundly,
hands positioned firmly on hips, shadows long
on undulating hills.

This is what I love about being
The air so fresh "it smells like Jamaica, mama"
she reports as she dashes to the neighbors house.
Where her West Best Friend waits with mirrored excitement,
and something within me softens, breathes with greater ease.
Relishes in a place where time seems gentler,
and urgency has no home.

Words have more breathing room, thoughts have space,
a high quiet reigns.

And today, watching the girls, chase waves, with such
Strong sun blasting over us all amid a gentle cool
I felt so at
with everything that's brought me to
So nice, to just watch.
Blank horizon to center my gaze,
just happiness observinging two girls
nowhere but the present.

When we reached the beach,
we passed a heron.
Still and strong yet featherlight in the breeze.
And when we left,
There it was,
Same spot, facing in another direction.

And as our afternoon came to a close
My dear old friend pointed me toward some words:
Your life, accept it just as it is,
Today. Now.

And though there is sadness
that ever-lingers beneath my days.
I kiss my life.