frosted incline

frost again promising

slippery incline of our hill

so many times impassable

in winter, or willing

to accept those drivers game

to slide downhill side door first

rocks in the water

rocks in the water

barriers, obstacles to navigation

of man’s commerce

yet creator of tiny resting places

for fish migrating upstream

and small hurdles to be leapt

aerating the stream, delivering

oxygen for gilled creatures

contributing to life rather

than merchandizing

what they can afford

a gentleness not seen in

those who feel they are large

too large to need to take turn

but able simply to bully

to get what they want

where those who are big

inside as well as out

can afford empathy

waddle, paddle

waddle, little duckling

scurry after mama

knock yourself sideways

against a tuft of grass

twice as tall as you are

hesitate at a cliff

three times your height, but

at mama’s squawk

of encouraging command

lift stubby wings to help launch

you out and over onto a sparkling

surface you know

you’ve never walked on before

that moving effervescence

gives under your webbed feet

momentarily, you feel you

will drop down forever

and then you feel your little, yellow

self bob up and down and float

those wide, flat feet begin to move

so you can hurry after mama

paddle, little duckling, paddle

Third bobcat

Young bobcat, perhaps female,

paler with less prominent florets,

sauntered across my back yard

yesterday – my third, my privilege

Over the years, i’d watched two others,

probably male, grow to be too large

and too muscular to be house cats

each year their markings darker

and more distinct and handsome

I am sorry to be moving away, giving

up the honor of observing

this one over time

terrified of the move

overwhelming to try to organize

the move when i cannot picture

how best to set my furniture

in my new rooms

but reassured there is no hurry

i can spread out the smaller items

over weeks or even months

if i need to

first things, the heavy items

for the movers

trapped

a gentle soul, trapped

within her damaged body

by a stroke

unsure, merely smiling, afraid

to speak because her words

come hard, garbled

greeted by two from different

care settings who can listen

and wait without anxiety

while she struggles

bring richer smiles

of joy in acceptance

warmest holiday

they will take the two long flights

to Mexico, this time to meet

son and wife with

grandsons who are now

old enough to enjoy December

outdoor swimming and

peering around ancient

Indian ruins

fully warm holiday of joy

murky morning

haiku

 murky morning with

the valley fog huddling in

tints of greenish gray

the deer are cruel

now that the decision is made

the deer are cruel

to come each day parading

in my yard, nibbling my grass

and treating on the lettuce

and carrots i set out

bobcat stays hidden

but i remember his kitten stage

and the cougar i stepped onto

my back porch and greeted

as startled as he was

though he merely lifted his chin

in haughty pride when i murmured

how handsome he was

i will love the view from

my new apartment but expect

few wild creatures to greet me

on my seventh-floor balcony

skittish

haiku

young buck with antlers

new sprouted, skittishly poised

does then bend to eat

night’s lingering indigo

night’s lingering indigo

 low clouds muted

by night’s lingering indigo

smother the valley below me

creating a backdrop

for the stark juxtaposition

of white frost on field and roof

against the ebony-green of stands

of pine and fir

worse instead of better

 much accomplished

three recycling bins filled

with old scripts and stories

and shredded financial statements

from decades ago

but no progress visible yet

to eyes other than my own

in fact, my home looks worse

than ever with empty and half-filled

boxes in every corner of every room

please come and look at the acreage

and the view of mountain peaks

but do not ask to peek

inside the house – it’s a mess

change

huge change for the girl

who was too much a loner

to join a sorority or live

comfortably in a dormitory

whose chosen home was high

in the rural hills

to be moving now into an apartment

“get it in writing”

i never think to “get it in writing”

because i trust working person-

to-person and want it to be that way

i dropped off books at a mom-and-

pop bookstore once for them to sell

on commission, but got no receipt, so,

when i went to see how they had sold

though they were gone, i got zilch

and now i am hung up again

producing Exhalation, the best book

in my Nandria series

i do hope we can come to an agreement

in writing, this time

‘puter

if there is a way to frustrate me

my computer will find it

banishing my belief i am not

just an old lady but young enough

still to at least know how to

turn it on

my identity through my kids

get-together at mjMG last night

for an early Thanksgiving dinner

my brother and sister-in-law joined me

we met a few new people

and a lady who looked so familiar

but i couldn’t place her

until she asked if i were the mother

of the woman who plays with

Bells of the Cascades

so, even now, these many years later

i am best known as the mother

of my wonderful kids

exalting

Exhalation came to the door yesterday

fourth novel in the Nandria Series

it has my sketch from years ago, with

drizzles and lettering by a commercial

artist, as the cover and extended

around to the back – so striking

not that i am excited or thrilled or

anything, but, oh, it is good

to have it in my hands

longed for

so far away

but still belonging

wanted, longed for

bringing with a hug

an inundation of joyful tears

overcome

emotional blow bowed me to rest

my head on the chair back in front of me

i could not stand up without my son

holding me as i sobbed

my Ted had flown in from the Midwest

as a surprise set up with the family

not seeing him for a year

or more at a time

i knew the hunger of longing

but had not realized how the deep

the pining ached until he held me

in his arms