Category Archives: Poems

Winter Strawberries

Backing down the drive we see snow and sleet on the cold stones and grass,
evidence of winter’s long-clutching grasp on Ohio.

We head to church, the grocery, back to church school,
and finally home where we hang coats, store mittens, and wash hands.

We dice red onion and cooked chicken,
slice black olives and grape tomatoes.
We layer the crust with olive oil, basil, mozzarella,
and all of our dicing and slicing while the oven heats.

The tomato bisque is ladled into glass bowls,
and the leafy salad arranged on ceramic plates.
There is talk of croutons and pizza,
strawberries and yogurt, and even melted chocolate.

Our little ones have already eaten a bakery cookie and a fruit-laden cereal bar,
but they come to the table anyway and tell us how they would design their menus and present their dishes.

The littlest one asks to read “The Little Red Caboose” before nap time,
and as I near the end, he presses his cheek to mine, his strawberry breath forcing my mind toward spring.

 

For Thomas (On the Occasion of His Tenth Birthday)

Often you say to me, “I can’t believe you’re my mom.”
I choose to take this as a compliment.

Often I say to you, ” Please stop acting like an almost 10-year-old.”
I insist you take this as a compliment.

When I think of life a decade ago,
I wince at all my oozing pridefulness.

When you think of life a decade from now,
I pray you shine at all your humble grace.

Drum the Cello

Bits of hurried meals scatter beneath the table:
sauced penne, broccoli, bread, chocolate covered raisins.
Strands of hair fall unheard across the rooms:
brown and blonde, long and not-so-long.
Art implements cover all horizontal planes:
crayons (the floors), markers (the chairs), papers and pencils (the tables).
Everywhere my eyes see shreds, scraps, and specks.

I should try something different.
Look up, perhaps.
Look forward, even.
Try drumming the cello instead of bowing it.