whack-a-mole

My house is pristine
and my car is a sty.

Keeping one thing alive
will make something else die.

I better just laugh
or I think I might cry.

who is two

One of us blew out
two candles on the last cake;

The other one is pitching a fit,
pounding her fists on the bed and
losing a battle of wills.

re-purposing

It seems I do all my blogging on my other site these days, but I don't want to get rid of this space quite yet. I think I will keep it and re-purpose it as a poetry journal. Here's a little something I wrote this morning to get started.


Sunday Morning

I can hardly tell if
it's the most important thing
I've ever done,
or the most frivolous.
(It could be both
but that feels too cliche.)
Is it presumptuous
to think
I might approach the One
who made the seed break open
in the soil,
sprout and stretch its
branches to the sky before
it was felled and split
into the polished planks
I'm standing on?
Yes.
Maybe faith is the guts
to stand anyway
and ask to be the seed.