Swing In A Tree

Wednesday, March 8, 2023

"The Footlong Generation"

Our children live at home—
dreaming, planning, reaching, and working
within a reality of Pink Slips and Red Ink

meeting Maslow’s levels by
staying, sharing, settling, and waiting
Our children leave our homes—
dreaming, planning, reaching, and working

but return with Divorce and Failure
postponing their destinies by
bleeding, retreating, suffering, then healing

Our parents live at home—
yearning, coping, striving, craving
becoming our children by
needing, depending, trusting, and relenting

Our parents live in homes—
yearning, coping, striving, craving
relinquishing their destinies by
falling, breaking, suffering, dying

"Parental Love"

Guided through life

by a silver thread

that winds through the

mazes our minds create

Fine and delicate

it’s a spider’s soft silk

that gathers the morning dew

and catches the sun’s warmth

A gossamer of spun fairy’s hair

touched with magic and dreams

as fragile as a hummingbird’s egg

yet strong with love and faith

"Gottcha Day" in 1986

"I Want to Give You the World"

I want to give you the world

with its promise

with its pleasure

with its plenitude

I want to give you the world

without the doubts

without the debt

without the desperation

I want to give you the world

with its splendor

with its sunrises

with its surprises

I want to give you the world

without the worry

without the weaknesses

without the wantonness

I want to give you the world

with its hope

with its humor

with its happiness

"Eight"

Eight

Look at the word

How do you say this word anyway?

Look at the number—

A Mobius strip

Unending

Two circles stacked

One

top

the

other

A number of depth

Purple rooms

Playing poker

Growing

lectures

radishes

corn

“Mom, why can’t Paula take me swimming?”

Life

in full color

first fetal photos

explained in one afternoon

Eight

With Uncle Red

and root beer

And collections

of dogs

of teapots

of memories

Layers of happiness

enfolded in blood

Dad’s cheerful letters

from a distant war

News flashes

Bombs

Destruction

Charlie’s lip

torn away

a bloody hand print on my thigh

unending

Wrapping back onto itself

joy and fear entwined

Me at eight!

"Middle Child"

Middle child

between curly hair with doe brown eyes

and an only son

one five years ahead, the other five behind

imitating the elder while

lingering in childhood with the younger

envying her poised elegance and

longing for his sweet innocence

Middle child

between worldliness and naiveté

flanked by her play for independence

and his everlasting childhood

expecting more from myself

learning by her mistakes

benefiting when parents learn

it’s something kids just do

Middle child

between reserved solitude

and gentle attachment

becoming reliable and resilient

out of necessity and then habit

passing white glove inspections

knitting and purling the blanket of family

needing its comforting warmth