If I loved you more
it would ooze out of my pores
explode from my brain,
sizzle on my skin.
If I loved you more
you would never leave my side
I would wrap around your limbs
palpate your heart in my hands.
I could not love you more
for I am sloshing with love,
full to bursting,
obsessed,
with you.
You wear
every trauma
in the lines of your face,
in your scarred cheek,
and absent teeth.
You wear
each bad decision
in your jaundiced sclera
in the milky irises.
You wear
laughter in the crinkles
around your eyes,
and dignity
in your smile.
Now
I remember
what I wanted to ask.
I wonder if…
this
that
the other.
Right.
I had meant to ask
about that, hadn’t I?
But in the excitement
all the good questions
fell out of my head
leaving a joyful
explosion of
now.
.
.
.
.
.
This could mean anything, because of course it happens all the time, but specifically today, I had 3 questions wander through my brain that I’d meant to ask author Diana Gabaldon in the 90 minutes we were driving from the airport in Kelowna to Salmon Arm for Word on the Lake Writers’ Festival. Yesterday another one floated through. I suspect many more will show up in the weeks to come. Oh well. We’ll just have to have her back! 🙂
Your brown eyes
watch me with an intensity
of adoration that makes my heart glow.
Whenever I come home,
you greet me at the door,
quivering in delight.
You follow me throughout the house
set your head across my knees,
gaze longingly into my eyes.
I scratch your ears and you sigh,
with a satisfaction that trembles
up your spine.
“Such a good boy,” I say,
and your tail thumps
in lazy agreement.
.
The tiny vessel
zips around the floating logs
pushing them here and there.
Sorting them.
Guiding them to the mill piles.
Leading them to lumbering destiny.
And you,
zip around me
pushing me into order
sorting out my messes
guiding me to better decisions
leading into our future.
Is it better
to write one poem
each day
for 365 days,
or to spend
365 days
writing
one poem?
In light of the imposed strife affecting our education system, I’m thinking maybe I should walk out too. You in?
Not for a moment do I begrudge the teachers or the school district. I mean, seriously, who would trade places?
While I might bemoan my own work day, I wouldn’t consider switching it for the challenges and importance of a class of kindergarten kids. If I were their teacher, it would be all we could do to manage to get our shoes off in time for recess to put them back on time before the bell rang to call everyone back inside. Everyone should have a go at that. Don’t get me started on lunch and the opening of yogourt tubes and granola bars. The fact that I would be mandated to teach the alphabet, the days of the week, the months of the year, the numbers and do it all without a nap…
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Out front the high school
Each morning,
A man stands,
Bearing above his head a
One word pronouncement.
Watching parents leaving
Their children,
Teachers driving in,
He tilts his sign to catch
All eyes.
Morning after morning:
PRAYER.
Each day I ponder
His cryptic word.
Is it protest
or encouragement?
Prayer ?
for kids
to be attentive?
to do their homework?
to embrace their learning opportunity?
to have supportive homes?
Prayer for staff
to be patient?
to be available?
to see what needs to be seen?
to do what needs to be done?
It’s not such a terrible reminder,
for anyone,
whatever the motivation.
It begins
in awe
a stunned staring
with a grin that expands
from mouth to feet
’til even toes are smiling
with delight.
It grows
in time
as kindly sharing
expands experience
from then to now
’til familiarity leads
to comfort.
It rests
in fondness
warm embraces
transcending miles and
knowing paths will cross
again.
You gather me into you
Entangling limbs and
Tickling kisses on the neck.
.
Your breath tangles in my hair
Escaping through quivering tendrils
Trembling into the night.
.
Your heartbeats drum against my back
Exquisite timpani.
Time stops.
Shawn L. Bird 