Posting early – taking daughter out shopping and for lunch for her birthday tomorrow.

Binge watching Broadchurch with hubby – one thing we can still enjoy together while he battles cancer – and heard, “This is how it happens” which sent me running for my journal because I didn’t have anything fresh for day 5.  I wrote that at the top of the page, and the rest just tumbled out.  Earlier in the day I was browsing in an old (early 90s) journal for inspiration, and that just wrote itself right on into the poem.  I love it when that happens!

This Is How It Happens

This is how it happens, then,
the little window cactus blooms unexpectedly
the green parakeet sidles closer to the blue
they do neck nuzzles
In the sun patch, the pug with one eye
lies dreaming of her lost mate
and outside the pond is bursting with egg pods

wind whistles down the driveway
rustling pine needles and new leaves
and the sun slides in and out
of white clouds with black bellies hung
in a blue blue sky
Somewhere a mocking bird dazzles the quiet
with an endless effortless repertoire and
a daffodil opens its face to the day

In the kitchen with the yellow counter
I clean coffee spots, wipe grounds
shuffle day old papers into a pile

If I knew where this was going I would
share it with you, but I don’t – like you
I am waiting for the right word, for the clock
that has stopped to start again
its silent slide forward, for the path to branch
again so that this time I don’t get lost.