Tuesday, November 23, 2004


Dear God, gods, Mother Earth, and Father Sky
Thanks for the world.
For all things that fly, walk, crawl, and sit and be still.
Thanks for the laughter of children, the warm smiles of friends and the soft touch of the gentle heart.
Thanks for the cat on the computer, the magic marker in the boy’s little hand and the Beanie Babies looking down at me.
Thanks for the turkey and the pig who provide their flesh for our meals. Thanks for the carrots, and sweet potatoes that nobody likes, thanks for the tart cranberry for keeping us awake when the deliciousness of the day threatens to put us to sleep.
Thanks for families, quiet moments and dancing in the rain.
Thanks for the tables beneath our food and the roofs above it.
Then there are the rugs, carpets, blankets, jackets, and scarves that keep us warm.
And the wood floors, bookshelves, and sideboards which keep our shoes on and our minds sharp.
Thank you for good books (and bad ones), excellent movies (and really stupid ones) and radical video games (and educational ones).
Thanks for the mess for at least I have a house to be messy. Thanks for the tears, for at least I have eyes to cry them with; thanks for bumps and bruises, for a least I have the children to get bumped and bruised; and thanks for worry, for it keeps us on our toes.
Thanks for the opportunity to know those here and those gone, the myriad of exceptional human beings parading through our lives who give us gifts of themselves.
Thanks for the dragons, witches, flying monkeys, white rabbits and hobbits of the mind who raced one another for enlightenment.
Thanks for mothers and fathers and patience and anger.
Thanks for horse potty, guinea pig swirls and ferret noses.
Thanks for the world, for without it we would have nowhere to live.

Sunday, November 21, 2004

Police Report

Bicycle stolen,
red, Honda, breaks broken
because one child
likes to take risks
tricky turns, ball chasing, jumping the curbs into a land far away with cheers for the bicycle king.
Bicycle stolen,
as it lay innocently in a green grass yard
with yellow leaves gently sprinkling over it and dew growing from its rims.
Sombody left it there
not put away
and there it went...
to some other boy,
dreaming of greatness
and wealth
Not from this bike,
only one boy could ride it
it fit only one smart child
who could make it fly
and stop it without breaks
who trusted it to wait for him
laying in the grass.

Friday, November 05, 2004


My hands have touched the stars and the skys
My hands have known blood
The simple use of changing hands, the cuddles, the diapers, the roses and the thorns.
It all is one and one is not all but ever moving and sliding
over keyboard,
over strands of long hair,
over growing child faces that can't be kept,
over time.