i'll let it go this time

They're not supposed to run upstairs
Fierce in fast joy
Pierce shrieking boy
Free-happy as no grown-up dares

hibernation preparation

The squirrels and I
are stocking up,
a bit rounder each day,
tucking away
by instinct
for the coming change.
We store and gather,
prodded by
a bone-deep knowing:
Winter will come.
Then we who have
scurried will be still,
sink down,
settle fast and firm
into the dark
that brings life.

sickbed mass

Prayer, and the laying
on of hands,
anointing the head,
singing the psalms.
Offering the cup by
candlelight,
the great thanksgiving.
All these I do
and more tonight,
priest of the bunk bed
parish, keeping the
night watch,
tending the sick.
The Holy Fathers
must have been
watching the mothers
when they wrote
the Missal.

gimme gimme

I want to take Hebrew.
I want to eat a caprese salad.
I want my kids to stop wrestling.
I want my kids to never stop wrestling.
I want to be a better friend.
I want all my sisters to live here.
I want to teach.
I want to find the perfect area rug.
I want to go on a date.
I want a hot tub.
I want to be able to go in a hot tub.
I want to sleep through the night.
I want to be gentle with my boys.
I want Jon to know I adore him.
I want to see my little girl's face.
I want to write poetry again.