Sugar maple’s immature leaves bounce lively on the breeze
Robins frolic through dandelions and freshly cut grass
Brilliant brightness peeks through clouds warming my face
Families of rabbits skip through budding yellow tulips
Lavender lilacs dance with dogwood blossoms tickling my nose
Baby woodpecker taps at the sycamore branch
Fat bumblebees buzz from cherry bloom to zinnia bloom

Move rack to lowest position,
Set to three seventy-five.
Pour in one and a third cups water,
Sprinkle egg whites (package A),
Blend on LOW till moist.
Beat on high (but remain patient)
Stiff peaks will form when gently
Dunking a spatula into your batter
(Be sure beater is AT REST before checking).
Sprinkle in cake flour (package B)
A little at a time on LOWEST setting
(Don’t forget to scrape the bottom and edges).
Pour batter into your ungreased tube pan,
Cut through batter gently with a butter knife
In a circular motion
To eliminate air bubbles.
Bake for at least thirty minutes
Or until top crust is golden brown
(Ovens vary so keep your eye on it at all times).
Cool by hanging tube pan upside down on bottle,
Loosen by making up and down strokes with spatula or knife.
Gently remove your cake.

Before sleeves fight off chills, leaves begin to pour
Onto the raw ground, outside the window, as if they were tears
That belonged to the trees. Inside the glum house, their star
Is placed on the fridge with a glitter border to catch every eye,
But their own. They try turning away from her making the winning shot
At the basketball game, last season. Below the urn, the firewood burns

To thaw the bitter home, as the light providing candles burn
Out from exhaustion. The mother tip-toes to the kitchen to pour
Away her independence—maybe she’ll come back after the next shot,
Then I’ll stop—into a glass. Since the disaster last winter, silent tears
Can be heard only within oneself, but can be seen in their eyes
By those throughout the town.  Not even a wish on a shooting star

Can bring her back now. The father only peeks up at the stars
When he goes for his evening strolls, his faithfulness has burnt
Away since she’s been gone, and everyday gets harder for his eyes
To process his vacant house. The town looks on and prays for the poor
Family, as they drag their feet to church; their son permanently in tears;
Forcing his memory to destroy the images. He ignores everything, but the shot

Echoing in his ears. He saw the blood embracing her after the shot;
Her body sprawled out on the red snow. Their basketball star,
Gone in an instant. This is all he sees—he tries to save her, but the tears
In his mother’s eyes tell him she’s already gone—as he stares into the burning
Fire. He hears his mother clink the bottle to the glass as she pours
Herself another round. He can hear her ask herself, “Why wasn’t it I

Who got struck by that bullet? Why would God even consider the i-
Dea that is was her turn? God, why didn’t you give her another shot?”
The mother takes the last gulp; she reaches for the bottle to pour
Another, but her eyes land on the photo of her fallen star.
She looks away and begins to cry. The fire continues to burn,
Keeping the house warm, as the son stares into the flames and tears

Continue to roll off his warm cheeks. The mother stands there, tears
Run down her face, her husband begins to hug her. In the corner of his eye,
The son sees his parents embracing, as the fire slowly stops burning;
He joins them. They all embrace each other and the echoing shot
Diminishes in the son’s ears. The struggle is not over, and her star
Is not forgotten, but that midnight drink was the last that she would pour.

Years go by, but that night stays burnt in their memories. Not so many tears
Are falling from the trees or eyes, this time of year; only the rain pours,
And at night all that can be spotted is the shot of a shooting star.

As the sun wakes in the east
and rests in the west;
As autumn leaves float on the breeze
and become still with the chill earth;
As snow coats the jaded pasture
and thaws under the dawn;
As mundane rain drops  
and robins splash in their bath;
As father’s zinnias come alive
and buzzing flocks thrive in their nectar;

As the sun wakes in the east
and rests in the west,
I love you.

I crest the hill lined with young red delicious    
and pass the rows of rotten purple squash.
Barreling into the crooked entrance
my tires spit gravel and huff dust
into the yard.
The golden maple with palm-sized leaves
is my beacon
through unforeseen junctures and the stony pathway.
Lavender tulips genuflect with the wind
their reflections dancing on his polished granite.

While he’s away,
Lord, please bless US…

    with COURAGE to live on
put one foot in front of the other
make the best decisions
make it through another day

    with HOPE to make it through this
he’ll be back soon
he still loves me
he returns alive and well

    with STRENGTH to hold it all together
cope with the loneliness
support the family        
be able to support him physically, mentally and emotionally when he comes HOME
                
AMEN.

“When you know;
You'll just know,” they say
to you, when you are six—
dreaming of the ideal beaux
that in every way
just clicks.

They say, “Snow
will fall all day,”
but instead—a hazardous mix.  
What if it was Joe
or Ray
or one of those other *****?

But even though,
I’ve fallen prey
to many a man’s trick—
owning my woe—                                          
I still pray                                            
I find The One that makes me tick.

“When you know;
You'll just know,” they say—
omniscient ******.