Thousand Island Park, NY 2016

You love the wind.  It fills you up.

It whips the leaves on the trees, and

your shirt, your hair, your eyes, your heart.

It takes all your breath away.

You love the sun embracing you.

It brightens the world, steals the night,

swims around your body lighter

than human touch.  It warms your heart.

Sunlight and wind conspire to chip

the river waves into diamonds --

diamonds that whip their way into

your eyes as unshed sparkling tears.

The sunlight, the strong wind and waves

fuse to gently rock this cradle

suspending your course of action
and desire for destination.

Solitaire 2

“What do you want me to do?”

I heard these words from my mother

when, as a teenager,  I had driven her to distraction

which was, of course, my goal.

I always had an aha moment afterwards

as if I had broken her.

And I heard them again two years ago

as she lay dying and then I knew

she was broken again and I also knew

she had not been talking to me.

I’ve become aware of something else:

I am more like my mother than I thought.

I was my daddy’s little girl:

busy one hundred percent--

learning to shoot a bow and arrow,

learning to swim or fish,

learning to use a hammer and nail

and following him everywhere.

“What do you want me to do?”

My mother used to play solitaire

a lot of solitaire, peeling and stacking cards

by threes, in piles of thirteen.

I thought nothing of it.

She loved playing cards, especially bridge.

A hobby, a way to pass time.

And now, I pay solitaire

on my cell phone

between times like my mother.

Aha, the distraction, the escape.

And now I find myself saying,

“What do you want me to do?”