Good Morning

First, the sun
screams good morning
in my eyes.
Then, the mechanistic
clock beeps
and pounds my ears.
I slap it
off the fridge
and trip over
homework from yesterday.
My roommate, darling
she is,
returns from class
chipper and pert
and touches my shoulder.
I jump and again
trip over my own
feet as I dress.
She laughs and the
sound clears
the fog.
She now fixes her
food and the aroma
attacks my mouth
and nose.
I am awake now,
I know,
as she slaps my hand
for stealing the
chicken and rice
as I leave for

The Bird

Once I found
a bird
about to die.
It had fallen
from its
nest somewhere
above where
I stood.

It was angry
and scared
and really pissed
at me
for finding him
too late.

My thoughts
back to when
we had found
another bird;
but it was already dead.

We had taken this bird
(a robin,
I think)
up into Grampus’
dug a hole
and put it in.
We put a rock
over the fresh

And now
I stand
over another bird.
He yells
up at me.
And I leave.

Concrete will not
allow a grave
and Grampus
has his own
rock now.

The Peach Tree

The tree remained
even after the
heavy snow
had brought the
branches to the
It had spit out
its last fruit
we thought
the season before
the snow came.

The snow melted
and we considered
it dead.
But spring brought warmth
and then green branches
and buds

Timbers and rope
and faith
propped the old tree
up on its hill,
king once again.

To The Lightning

Many, many years ago, Zeus and I were home alone–I don’t remember where Jake and Maggie were–when an electrical storm came rushing through. I found this piece I wrote and thought I would share it with you.

To hear the thunder and see the flash at the same time
To feel the air sparkle
Hair on the back of the neck standing up at attention
Television pings a second before the flash
Light bulb pings, never to light again

I’m sitting in the middle of the living room, clutching the fire extinguisher in one arm and Zeus in the other. It is the worst lightening storm I have ever been in. One I hope to never experience again. I had everything in the house unplugged (easy enough task since there are so few outlets) yet they still pinged and popped. I was not, am not, scared of storms. I was raised to believe if you hear the thunder, you are okay. For the first time, I doubted that reasoning. There was no measurable time between the lightning and the thunder. The lightning flashes were so close together, that the thunder was non-stop. It lasted perhaps only fifteen minutes, if that long, but it was long enough.

Heart pounding, eardrum ringing, bass rumble
Arm hairs raise, stove pings, light flash
Two hearts pounding, four eardrums ringing, bass rumble vibrating our guts
And our nerve

Zeus was never afraid of storms. He often slept through them. Jake, deaf, only noticed the pretty lights and the vibration from loud enough thunder. Maggie, hound who spent much of her childhood living in a drain pipe, hates storms, especially those with thunder, even those with loud rain. But after that storm, if the weather turned loud, Zeus never left my side. We could never tell if he was frightened after our experience, or if he felt he needed to stay there, to protect me. He-dog would never be frightened of course, no, not my Zeus. And especially not of lightning, right?

Soft fur under my hand, under my arm
Warm body pressed against mine, slightly quivering
We twitch at each crackle
Jerk with each flash
Both of us, forever marked