1
and
seven
squared
times twenty
again and some
more plus just a circle
or two, counting on fingers
to one, counting yet some more
and over and over again, don't forget
triangles now they count for a lot, you know,
figure it out, add it all up, equals a gazillion and
ten to the power of ten hundred thousand million+1

My husband whose hair is
a ripple from the midnight river

whose laughter is the glow
of noonday sun on the ocean

whose hands are the breeze across
my face and the thunder in the earth

my once sailor who now works the earth
and sweats the salty sea from his pores

my green man whose hands,
both gentle and strong, nurture plants.

whose tanned skin in summer shines
with sweat palpable and real
over lean muscles
formed through loving labor

my husband whose eyes are the dark
sky before rain and the glistening
trees after

whose eyes are those of a sea lion
an eternity deep

whose soul is molded to mine
like cupped hands dipping water

whose soul refreshes my soul
like a drink from a mountain stream

whose soul goes with me always
running through me like a river...

in the carnival
that is life

time spins fields
of sunflowers
sweet corn
and sassafras

tilts and whirls
to form
paths where caravans travel
riding out their destiny

in the dusk,
at evenfall
in firelight's twitching flames

music echoes

scuffed boots dance
in drifting dust

raised under wheels
worn and rusted
heavy with age

when darkness swallows
the horizon
dying embers crackle
                                  spit
                         ­              spark
                                              
            ­                                            sink into
                                                            ­        stillness

stars peep through
the dark curtain
of the sky

moon follows
- radiant -

the sky is theirs
- the moon and stars -

until midnight
wanders in

bringing gravid clouds,
pregnant with life

the moon hides
stars recede
as if too shy to watch

the wind awakens

seems rhythmic
in its gasps

lightning rips the dark drape

thunder bellows

clouds
- labor relieved -

pour forth
delivering their gift

earth's lifeblood
soothes the dust

twists
cascades
down the hills
forming whirlpools

collects in streams and rivulets

that merge
with
grateful rivers

winding
to the sea

homecoming
of
the carnival
of life

some gifts our mothers
gave us we seem sometimes
to forget

not the teachings of how to be
kind or safe

not even the gift of love

that...

we don't usually mistake

though quite important
not her wise advice

not her bedtime kisses or
soft lullabies

all these we usually
give much sway

rightly so we should
be thankful each day

but...

I wonder if when you

look in the mirror
do you see her within

is she in your
eyes or your smile

do you have the
same shade of skin

did she give you
her sense of humor

did she give you
her laugh or her voice

do you see her hands
when you look at your own

of course, for these
she had no choice

still...

how you walk
stand
or sit

your height
and
your size

your color of hair

your color of eyes

all these and more
she gave you
by being a lover or wife

and giving to you
the greatest gift
the amazing gift of life.

I guess poetry
is like
that at times

whether or
not
we try for
rhymes

when she's quiet
decides to snub

do we go after
her
with a club

do we do
that
to our muse

is there such
a thing
as muse abuse

guilty here
sometimes

but is that
really
such a crime

cough it up
I know
it's there

it's there
somewhere

do not be
stubborn

come on
now

you know
you
know how

and I did not
stutter

out comes
the club
a threat

I'll get something
out of you
yet

but

nothing
               nada
                       zilch
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