At the lake

At the lake
At the lake

The scene:
nature swarmed by the pontoon parade.
A steady show of passers
baring their chests to the sun
and their toes to the clear water.
The band plays and the beers crack,
everyone is here to float and paddle and enjoy doing nothing
but laugh and look and be with the ones you brought along.

The lake is a hullabaloo
that harkens back to the ‘50s
when families spent time together
and escaped the burbs for a simpler weekend life
replacing work and school
with floaties and cocktails.
That was a time of new affluence
and so is now
when everyone has a square of lake front
and a dock full of choices.

Still, amidst the motors, squealing kids, thumping tunes,
and not too distant highway racket,
Nature is quietly present,
almost forgotten
but holding the gathering place,
the arms around us all stumbling over each other,
the common draw that is our primal need
to be outside in the air and sun and water.

to be outside in the air and sun and water.

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Dog days of summer

Dog days of summer
Dog days of summer

When the dust billows and lingers above the gravel road,
when the lawn goes brown and the pond goes green,
when the heavy apples fall and the combines slowly chew through the fields,
it’s the dog days of summer.
Days of thick wet heat
waiting for the cool that doesn’t come
even when the still darkness creeps over the corn tassels.
The moon is big and blurry eyed
and sleep comes slowly in damp sheets.

It’s the days of rocking in a shady spot on the porch
telling childhood stories
and drinking lemonade from a sweating glass.
There a different kind of tired in the deep of August,
a swooning fog of heavy lungs and slow breath,
a tired to the bone
that even a long nap won’t cure.
The dogs days call for a slowdown,
a sit back, eat ice cream, and be together.
Be together and appreciate the richness of go nowhere
and the simple wealth of home and family.

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Being right

Being right

Being right is a lonely place.
Our choice is to be right or reconciled.
Relationship over ego
is one of life’s great lessons.
As our testosterone wanes
and the fog of false bravado dissipates,
we see the wisdom of humility
of taking a breath
of letting go of the rope
of the higher good
of leading with love

So, we have a choice
to sit and simmer alone
in our righteousness,
alone in a big quiet house
with only our pride to fill the void
Or surround ourselves
with warmth
and compromise
and tenderness
and compassion
and companionship
and love.

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Looking for a home

Looking for a home

When you’re leaving
the house you thought
might be your home forever,
it’s an opportunity
to seek everything
you want in a nest.
A place that a homebody
can shore up,
can snuggle-in and sit on her eggs.
A place where friends
will feel at home,
will eat and laugh and muse.

A place with history
that has raised children,
washed them in the blue porcelain tub
and baked cookies for them in the creaky oven.

A place where creativity flows.
A spot for my easel
and a yard to inspire poems.

A place where love will flourish
and be celebrated.
A place that fits a big Christmas tree
and a dinner party for a cozy ten.
A place for rest,
for restore,
for reinvention.

A place to weather storms
and savor high times.
A place of whimsy and happy|
and soothing melancholy on rainy, red wine days.

A place where me can be me
Where there is no question
and there is no struggle.

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Tap Root

Tap root
6/20/2015 for Father’s Day with the whole family together to celebrate

When we burst forth from the womb,
we sink it down
into the homestead of our grandfathers
A new umbilical cord
Connection to the bones of old
A tap root to anchor generations to come
in the cocoon of life, earth, and death.

We are the trees
Running deep
Nurtured by the land
The land from which we grew
and to which we will return
with our wisdom,
our DNA,
our hummus,
the new children
who carry us with them
through the great cycle.

on Father’s Day
we are all together
Held by the family tap root
Held to the fields and barns and woods
Held as one great soul
knowing that eternity lies within us.

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Things that are better fat

Dialia taken by Adrienne Haas
Dahlia photo by Adrienne Haas

Things that are better fat

Spring robins,
Neutered lap cats,
Breast fed babies
with toes that barely fit on their round little feet.

Northern pike,
Pussy willow catkins,
Frozen margaritas,
and hot-buttered corn on the cob
with kernels so plump
they burst on every chomp.

Let’s keep going…

Rollie pollie black bears,
A night time log for the fire,
Avocado for homemade guac,
and VW bugs with a spot for flowers on the dash.

Lemon meringue pie,
A good book on a lazy vaca,
White faced snowy barn owls,
Puffy Cinnamon rolls
topped with fat pecans trapped in oozing butterscotch.

Still more?

Campfire marshmallows,
Ambling porcupines,
Snow-melt creeks,
and juicy kissing lips that leave you breathless every time
…long sigh…

…a little faster now…

Gourmet chefs,
Santa Claus,
Lop-eared bunnies,
Sunday afternoons,
Baritone singers,
Peanuts in the shell,
Ax handles,
Night crawlers,
Cumulous clouds,
Work horses,
Stadium cushions,
Down comforters,
Milk weed pods,
Christmas trees,
a fresh peach


and of course…
a bold
old vine zin
in a big-bowled wine glass
woo ha!

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Wood tick on my back

Wood tick on my back

Creepy but well designed
you scout my body sniffing for blood.
You tickle me with your spider legs,
your body broad and flat
like a Camero Z28.
You only want a little
but greed keeps you embedded
until you grow fat and round
and able to be discovered in the dog’s fur.
Your fate
the shoe or the match
or the flush and drain.

What can we learn from you?

Don’t take so much time
finding the perfect vein
that your flicked out of the game.

Be satisfied with enough,
excessive want and greed lead to the drain.

It’s not your shape and style
but your heart and brain
that make you who you are.

Find your purpose
and go for it with tenacity.

If you’re a wood tick,
be a good one
with pride and gratefulness.

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