Sturdy Pockets
Hand me the matches ... sleep comes dropping slowly now during our later years.
The season is over and we together make the best of what we have been given ...
between “purgatory of pure goodness” and “heavenly so grateful for this that we
have been luckily given” ... the way we keep clothing that doesn’t quite fit our
personality but has sturdy pockets ... what we have is by far good enough ... Forest
frost heat to dust of sands ... we have walked through all the temperatures a life can
ask of two people ... and now another walk to Minnehaha ... the concrete staircase
cliff here way before us is not sentimental ... Stopping for a few minutes is what the
top platform is for ... Waters of some time after waterfall ... that pooling of some
time after the fall ... the part of the river that remembers but is just holding ... We
know that continuing ...
The field holds every year ... not in a line ... more the way soil holds roots ...
somewhere still and moving ... We get lost in our own thirst for ruminations ...
kindness without a ledger keeping score ... Our beloved little Carlos has always
known ... running through the middle of it all shaking his feathery tail ... We are still
learning what Carlos understood ...
( driving home to tired neighbors ) When did we start believing in faith? Was it as a
child outside in the sun before entering kindergarten? Loving you Honey is sweet
and slow as heaven spaciousness. Above and below. Upstairs and in the luxurious
basement bunker TV room. Us. From day before birthday leap-hop to next birthday.
Our sunny yellow bedroom with wedding photo on the wall there. Sheets just
washed comforting our warm to cool skin to flesh to blood circulating. One kiss
before falling asleep. Can quietness be enough? It sure can by far with you. Sharing,
celebrating what life offers. Still alive or should I say instead living out every Godly
wish the best we can every day. Full bodied. Blossoming frequently.
The furnace hums one note we have never named ...
Eternal Stones, could this be enough for us? Enough peace and love for sure. We
have watched government institutions splinter. If only they were all seasons green
and more humble ... instead of serving out fever policy nightmares.
Soften that gaze a minute. Did you see the smirk on his face? As months swings to
flies by like how ocean sound fails to slip through an elder gardener’s cupped hands.
Landscape stained color schemes of another year gone by as merciful documented
and undocumented memories, there in all your cleared senses.
Candle cake plant and kite balloon birthdays are just a matter of time. And in a right
side up world, we can’t go backwards. You are poster child for growing old(er)
gracefully ... and I’m so fortunate to have you as my soul mate on this last long
journey we’re doing together.
What if we told you the cherries are always in bloom? Would that make you smile or
laugh? We hope so. You’ll never be this specific number of years old again ... only the
youthful spirit you are every hour of every kind of shadow play. Cruise over the
bridge light on the gas. There’s no need to dwell on things that may not or may
change How you want them to.
Our river keeps getting wider ... swelling like a Southern California tide, we stayed
for the explorer’s glide. There’s a thing about light of tide and how it dances. From
classroom to dining room Mother Earth calls your heart ( no strings attached ) and
you always pick up.
A smile of a rainbow changing back to a light rain. Leave the light on our porch the
figurative figurines need the Vitamin D. A song moves through too “Minnesota
fearful character welcome” to leave us. Such foolishness. Carry in the bags of food
with most of your might. That’s all I have to say.
Wishing you continue to stay with us your Spirit that no one else has. Matter of
seconds of minutes of hours of weeks of months of yet another birth year logged.
Oooo matter of passion and kindness.
