Untitled Document

TULIP CUPS
The Divine Designer
made tulip cups
to hold the tiny tools of life

Kindness has filled our cups
my trusty friend
So let’s drink to the downs and ups of life
            -- to our daughters’ sparkling eyes
            -- to cups full and spilling over
            -- with years of laughter, and tears

Let’s raise a cup to one another
And toast the strength
            and triumphs of each other.

TOMATO
Consider the tomato
red when ripe
small as a grape – or large:
one pound
one kilo
like the one we found
in Corinth, gracefully cradled in
an old Greek mama’s huge embrace

Tomatoes large or small
yet all, all hold inside of them
seeds in juicy pockets
progeny awaiting the earth
-- or only a clod in a balcony pot –
waiting to let their kind
            endure, survive
            sunshine
            rain
            or gentle watering can
will nurture tender tomato plants
collaborate with faithful bees
what more do we need
to prove the everlasting love of God?

AMARYLLIS
The amazing amaryllis has power to thrill us
Yet it stills us with its stillness.
In mid-winter when bears are hibernating
It keeps our corpuscles circulating
            our words articulating
            our hands manipulating
            our hearts palpitating
Even stimulating our thoughts and notions
So that oceans cannot hold an idea that flows
While the amaryllis grows and grows
            and grows.
In silence it wipes away the sad, the dour.
At a secret hour its trumpets open full and blare
Declaring the indomitable power of this flower
            This
            Amaryllis.

FRIENDSHIP
The thoughts we share over cups of tea
Cement the bonds between you and me.

We laugh aloud at pain’s persistence
It’s all a part of our existence

From a steady generous heart
You fill a canvass with newborn art.

In a silent house, on a silent day
my words, ideas prance and play.

We’re blended partners in a new dance tune
of poems and pictures in an afternoon.

PUMPKIN PROMISE
Behind my new home there was a garden plot
That woke in me an urge to dig in soil.
I saw how I could watch some flowers grow
and even pluck tomatoes like a farmer.
‘Twas late in summer, work kept me away
and when at home, I seldom gave a thought
to all the pretty things that I could grow.
Who’s kidding whom? I never was a farmer.
Late one afternoon I strolled in back
and came across a strange green ball
attached to a leaf-covered vine
it ran across the lawn.
I thought it was too late to start some planting
and so, turned to the house without thinking.
Like every other previous eve
the world and all its madness:
news of wars, of poverty, corruption, stealth and greed
came gushing out at me from the TV screen.
My mind was soon embroiled in all of it.
Once more my garden plot was quite forgot.
Another Sunday, on strolling out of doors,
I almost stumbled on the roundest, goldenest pumpkin ever.
It lay full, replete, complete
as if to burst.
“Tomorrow or the next day, I’ll bring you in,” I promised.
That night a winter wind brought
ice and snow.
A foot of it lay flat upon the ground.

Through March it never melted, would not thaw,
and when at last in spring I went to see
if any part of pumpkin had survived
where once a golden orb
had smiled at me
a flattened ochre mass was all I saw.
But there, right in the center of the mass
a pile of seeds, two dozen maybe more.
I knelt to gather up the seeds, weeping,
for I had let the world and its distractions
prevent this fine creation from fulfilling
all the nurturing joy its contents held.
I vowed to these small seeds of pure potential
that I would plant and tend them and
– this year – harvest their future growth
not wasting their bright hopes and promises.
But my biggest promise, I aimed toward myself.
I would not let th’outside world be more
important than the miracles of earth
and sun and soil and seed
for these I need to feed my soul.

ONE GERBERA DAISY
One day a little gerbera daisy
            reached far out into space
            and pinched a bit of brightness
            from the sun.
Without a place to hide it
            she smeared it on her face
            and found that she brought brightness
            to her shady little place.

Every day the mighty sun
passed directly overhead

Were there long discussions?
No -- not a word was said.

BLUE BERRIES
I’m running from the house at break of day
Winking back at winking drops of dew
I want to climb that hill not far away
Where I will find blue berries
Berries blue

Already I can smell a fragrant pie
That’s cooling on the kitchen window sill
I swing the little pail that I will fill
With dark blue berries, dark as the evening sky

Blue berry bushes all laden with fruit
On the top of that hill are waiting for me
Though the path is steep, fraught with danger en route
Dessert for tonight is dependent on me.

At last I reach the top of the hill
All around in abundance – blue berries, berries blue
I’m picking and plucking
            Deliriously grabbing blue berries
            Blue berries, blue berries
            Blue

This is the end of this blue berry story
It’s a tale of blue hands, blue mouth
and blue berry pie
eaten, consumed in the blink of an eye.

HYACINTH
You reminded me that --
The hyacinth I once gave you was in full bloom
like this one.
It gently spread its sweet perfume.
Looking at it made us smile
Its pretty petals like a plume.

Clearly you remembered that little plant
while my memory of it was scant.
That hyacinth means more to me now
It has the power to soothe, enchant.

How long did that little bloom last?
I asked.
Forever and ever, you said,

and pointed to the flower bed.

FALL LEAVES
See these leaves I’ve brought indoors
I chased them as before the wind they flew
They swirled and twirled and danced a rigadoon
And all the while, they hummed a rustling tune.

They bring inside the brightest hues of fall
To grace a ladened festive table soon
And then I think of all the leaves outdoors.
Still free to dance by the light of the moon.