Leading the Charge

The scent of lilac
            and dirt
               commingle
                 on the wind
                which pushes
                           out
                    the rain.
Hints
of late day sun, orange
as it burns through
the atmosphere,
spark a renewal
as neighborhood children
lead the charge outside.
The power tool brigade follows,
churning through wet grass,
hoping,
to beat the end of day
and the next rain.

Free Rain Shine

The rain is falling,
flowing, swirling,
puddling, pooling,
ruling the land.
Brilliant greens shine,
making up for the lost sun.
Verdant suburban lawns,
wild in their natural state.
Raindrops dance off of
over-passes,
cannon-balling into pools.
Makeshift streams
flow down sidewalks,
carrying tulip petals
like ships,
floating lazily
to whatever end
may find them.
I water myself
before heading in-doors,
natural
for the moment.

This Découpage Life

Thoughts,
cut out of magazines
are not mine.
But,
pasting them together,
covering part of one
with part
       of another,
the ideas
bleed together
forming a
new
idea.
A belief
that is mine.
Until the scissors
come out again.

Maybe I Shouldn't Have Splashed

Playing in the rain
             again.
Spl      ing,
   \   /
    ash
             dancing,
trying to find
the small kernel of truth
that lies at the bottom
of a puddle.
Spl      ing,
   \   /
    ash
              again,
spraying
passers-by
who hurry on past
for fear
I may contaminate them
with hope.

After the Rain

Ten drops of rain remain on my window.
Each reflecting a world I cannot see.
Tiny details of life, now refracted
warped, then twisted and turned to fit the curves.

I think I spot the daffodils in bloom,
flavescent yellow under bluing skies.
My daughter's red wagon, wheels distorted.
A silver maple, begining to bloom.

Spring designs stencils for Summer to fill.
Painting them, first with rain, then with color.

Like a Sunrise

I am eating color for breakfast.
Ripe yellow and blood orange.
Coffee, caramel colored
as it pours
          from
               the
                  carafe
turns muddy brown in my mug.
Brilliant white cream
spills
and ca
       s
         ca
            des
down the cabinet
to earth colored rugs
where it pools
and reflects
the first gold
of day.

*In response to Poetic Asides Day 18

Snapshot of my Daughter

The contrast
between her tie-dyed dress
and the gray sky
is almost enough
to make me think
the world is over-exposed.
Pink, striped socks
with ladybugs
crawling toward
the bruises on her shins.
Her proud collection,
hard earned
through tears
and perseverance.
Her eyes,
changing with the weather,
seem blue today
but green will show
with the sun,
if the sun should choose
to compete,
knowing it is
overmatched.