100/100 days of summer

My Bed is a Planet

My bed is a planet peopled by
my cat and me. Other planets
spin by but she curls up on my lap
next to my computer and she and I 
explore the universe.

99/100 days of summer

Spinning to the End

The world, a helicopter seed spinning,
out of control, but in somewhat of a pattern,
a bit graceful, but definitely landing.
Round and round we go, not knowing
when and where it will stop but we know
it will stop. Will we be ready or crushed 
underfoot like a dry helicopter seed?

98/100 days of summer

Better Views

Trees hide the better views,

so they say, but I say

trees are the views—

tall thick oaks like beloved grandfathers

lovely golden aspens shaking castanets

weeping willows swaying like hula dancers

cottonwoods with seeded fluff like children blowing bubbles

pine trees, ever green and pointing up, godly reminders,

poplars, maples, elm, tulip, hickory, birch, ash, larkspur—

all lovely views within themselves. See, really see, the trees.

97/100 days of summer

Ready on the Set

I’m not sure who I am or what I want.
Sometimes it feels like I’m an actor 
in a bad movie, eager for a new one.
Sometimes it feels like I’m directing
my own movie, but everyone has forgotten 
their lines. Sometimes it feels like 
the commercial break—time to turn down
the volume, get a snack and wait
for something interesting to happen.
But sometimes I feel like the spunky,
driven protagonist, giving it all I’ve got,
knowing the end will turn out well.

96/100 days of summer

Wishes

She’s been thinking about things that don’t need thinking

about. Fantasies may occupy the moment but don’t make

a bad marriage better. If she needs to wish something, she

needs to wish for the ability to respect him as he is and

to understand that her own happiness isn’t her main concern.

She made a vow that involves more than herself. Just like she

loves her children no matter what, she needs to love him simply

because he’s her husband and that’s the only reason she needs.

95/100 days of summer

Another World

Each summer, the seven of us packed into a station wagon
with our things under an upside-down row boat on top, 
and snacks and bread bags full of sandwiches in a metal cooler
and we’d escape like refugees in the middle of the night.
The youngest squeezed between our parents in the front
while the older four stuffed into the back leaning our heads
on each other’s shoulders one way until one of us would say,
“Lean!” and we’d switch and lean the other way. 
On the way to Delaware, from Pennsylvania,
we’d always tell our parents to wake us up 
when we crossed the Bay Bridge. They never did. 
I wondered why until I was a parent myself. 
We arrived at the cabins in Laurel, Delaware
as the day dawned. They faced a sandy area
and then the lake with docks, boats and a swimming beach.
For a week we lived in a different world from trees and hills,
having the time of our lives: swimming, fishing, 
playing hide and seek with locals and other vacationers.
We’d also go to the ocean and sun burn despite Mom’s best efforts.
Then we’d return home where it looked strange, grassy and beachless.

94/100 days of summer

Sister Love

“It was amazing,”

my widow sister proclaimed.

“After the call,

sisters from across the country

were on my doorstep the next day.”

93/100 days of summer

Mother and daughter

Ten days, three thousand miles

Northwest Odyssey in and Odyssey

92/100 days of summer

Emergency

Ford Galaxy
Sisters
Fight
Slammed Door
Scream
Doctor’s office
Big bandage on middle sister’s toe
Oldest sister feeling guilty for the rest of her life.

91 /100 days of summer Poetic Asdes prompt Sudden

Night Terror

S uddenly a high shriek pierces the night.

U nder slumber I fumble for the light.

D eadly still, I listen for the sound,

D arting fearful eyes all around.

E choing voices fill the halls,

N oting the scream which appalls.

L aughing the farmer points out,

“Y ou’ve heard a peacock, no doubt.”

90/100 days of summer Passions

Passions

The passions of my heart, like fleeting clouds,

drift aimlessly about caught in the wind,

so easily persuaded by the crowds,
my point flopping about unless it’s pinned.

How has the rhino skin become so thinned?

What stirs up firm conviction like a flame?

Where does the grief escape when I have sinned?

I look around, wondering who’s to blame.

But there’s one thing I know for sure is true;

the passions of my heart belong to You.

89/100 Poetic Bloomings Prompt Ancestry

Stories Before Me

My parents taught hard work and honesty

and though Mom attended church,

none of us five girls were made to go

But I always held if I knew God existed

I wouldn’t be content at keeping my distance.

I wanted to be intimate with Him,

and when I was fourteen I learned

that was possible in Jesus.

So I dedicated my life to Him

in complete devotion.

Getting to know Him was new to me

and a great adventure. Imagine my surprise

when my genealogist sister discovered

we came from a long line of pastors,

including Samuel Maycock who was appointed

to be the pastor of the first church at Jamestown.

The Maycocks, when living on an acreage outside the fort,

hid their infant daughter Sarah

during the Jamestown massacre of 1622.

Samuel and his wife were murdered,

but Sarah went on to marry George Pace

whose father Richard had warned Jamestown

and saved those living within the fort.

Another ancestor, Captain Drury Pace

was a chaplain in the revolutionary war.

Some of my ancestors, Scotch Irish,

came over to the U.S.A in the 1600s

and settled the area in Pennsylvania

where I grew up. My sister has an original deed,

dated 1796. That land is now part of the

State Game Lands.

My great grandfather married

and was widowed on their ninth child.

On a trip, he met and married another,
failing to tell her he already had nine kids.
It’s reported that he simply said, “Here’s your family,”
as he introduced them upon arriving home,
my Grandfather Bill being one of them.

So my grandfather Shannon was born in the area

but my grandmother was from Kentucky.

She shared a grandmother with Billy Ray Cyrus

about seven generations back.

The Scotch Irish was a wild bunch

taking the new land by storm,

with “the Bible, a gun and a bottle of whiskey.”

I dropped the gun and whiskey,

but cling to the Bible.