Loss
of something precious
of words

Lost
the compass
in a changed world

He is the lion and the lamb
the hawk and the dove
the dog and the wolf
mercurial little love

"Please always be sweet,
precious and kind"
but too sweet becomes cloying
No child of mine

could be without fire
A barely tamed heart
at once gentle and wild
his nature from the start

Rain is cold
and stinging
and wet.
I hate being wet
hair stuck to face
clothes soggy
heavy.

But rain makes
rainbows
in the sky and on the ground.
Vibrant
Shimmering
until it rains again.

Ready to start running
but don't know the course
or even
the distance.

Legs are strong
pulsing
eager
to carry me

so I take off
on the path I think.
Then it disappears.
I am lost.

I slow down
ambling
searching so long
and become sidetracked.

Attention diverted
I stop running.
Where was I going?
My legs are tired.

"Know your enemy," they say
and we do.
We denizens of the suburbs
keep home improvement stores in business
with our busy-ness.
We are constantly battling the enemy.

Throw nets on the garden,
defend the tomatoes.
Stake spikes in the eaves,
impale would-be invaders.
Poison the ground,
deny the creeps from scaling the walls.

We are barraged year-round,
under siege
but fighting back.
Battle on, yard warriors.
Cordless weed-whackers - charge!

The angular sunlight of late evening
cuts through the sky
like a bridge
transporting shards of light from beyond
to join the warm earthly breeze
shaking flowered trees

I am committed to writing for at least 30 minutes per day for 30 days. Many of those days, I think I will write a short poem and post it here.

Drab mommy outfit, body, mind
but not Spirit
the Spirit is flying
soaring and diving
every day.
Let the clothes reflect
that Spirit
bright and billowing
... a parachute?