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03/08/2025

“Gathering”

Slowly they arrive
Trickling down
Onto the page
Each with its own gait
A strut, a saunter, a skip,
Every so often
A handful burst in together
Demanding to be heard
All at once

I receive them as best I can
In between intruders
That I must fend off
Or at least distract
Long enough
To stay present
For the introductions

Not all of these visitors will stay
Maybe half, maybe even fewer
Some will leave by choice
Unable to be heard soon enough
Others will be asked to kindly
(Or not so kindly) excuse themselves
For not belonging

But in the end,
The words that remain
Will be exactly
The right ones
For this fleeting moment.

03/06/2025

“Identity”

Of all the things I am
That they can not take away
From me
Perhaps my favorite
Is being beautifully human.

3/6/25

05/30/2024

“First Harvest”

Eyes wide with anticipation
Palms open, revealing their bounty

There is no garden joy so great
as when your smitten child
gently pleads
for dinner to include
The first seven
uncompromised
green beans
of the season.

05/01/2024

“Perception”

My mother turned 87 yesterday
And I am 53
And though our path
Has not always
Run smooth
Bumpy some days
And downright turbulent at times
I am humbled by
And grateful for
her enduring
Presence
In my life

I realize
that a poem
about Mothers and Daughters
hits differently
for everyone,
Particularly
those of us
who were assigned “female”
At the start of this journey

Whether you have lost your mother
Through her passing
Or estrangement
Or some other parting,
Whether you were on good terms
Or the waters were rocky
Or somewhere in between,
These tangible separations
Might invite sadness
Or anger
Or regret
Or any mix of emotions

That even with my own
Complex relationship
With my mother
and navigating
the changing terrain
with my growing daughter
I can not grasp

Know that I understand
the breadth and weight
of all that I do not.
And want, no need
to honor your perspective too
My friend

And that while I share my gratitude
I also recognize your grief
And all that it contains

Some days I hold my breath
longer than others
Grasping the moment
Knowing that one day
I too
must breathe out
All that is

That I will have my own
unimaginable heartache
to carry

Only then may I begin
To understand
The breadth and weight
Of all that I do not
Yet.

04/30/2024

“Umbilical”

Years ago
I wrote a poem
My twelve-year-old self
Impressed with
The metaphor of a tree
So carefully crafted
By an angst-fraught adolescent
Trying to say “I love you”
To a mother who she was
At the same time
Fighting
To push away.

Over the years
The symbols
Of trees and roots and branches and leaves
Have made frequent
Though unpredictable
Appearances
My noticing them
Also seeming random.

This morning,
With coffee in hand
While I witness daylight’s first breeze
Softly bend the birches
And crepe myrtles,
And listen to my daughter
Making toast,
Her pitter patter
And morning sniffles
Mixed with the chirping of birds
And cars leaving the neighborhood,
All of the images
Of trees and roots and branches and leaves
Tumble into my cup
And I drink in the memories
Of the years
Of mothers and daughters.

And the trees give way to
Nested dolls
And eggs
And little feet and knobby knees
wobbling down the hall
in high heels
Trying to fill her shoes,
To Shared gestures
Facial expressions
Dreams held in secret
And passed-down pieces
Of lives too short

Because there could never be
Enough days on earth
To capture a mother’s love
Or a daughter’s longing
After losing everything familiar
In what feels like an instant
To return to the safety
Of that first moment
Lovingly sheltered
In her exhausted mama’s
strong and gentle arms.

04/25/2024

“Morning Wonder”

Unexpected
Seeing your silhouette
Against the gently growing light
Of sunrise

Your soft gray shadow
Moving in subtle contrast
To the still waves
Of magenta
Yellow and orange

I’ve grown accustomed
To your evening visits
By now

But what unexpected delight
I found
In witnessing your presence
As this blessed day’s
First greeting.

🦉

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Livermore, CA

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