Stick Children

• 
  stick children skate on ice
  tiny figures with fluffy red hats
  on the edge of a crystal pond
  boys build a fire,
  roast marsh mellows crispy,
  parents stand in groups around a frozen pond
  they shout out to them the way parents do
  Belinda baby, be careful you might fall
  Andrew don’t let your ankles touch the ice
  Don’t trip on Tracy’s scarf , Sally Mae
  out of the side of her mouth,
  Andrew’s mom tells Mrs. Shaw,
  Andrew has weak ankles-ya know,
  but I think he will grow out of it
  little folks pull sleds an inch at a time up
  white covered mounds
  a group of boys practice playing ice hockey
  with their older brother’s sticks and pucks
  in the foreground the skeletons of seven
  swing sets stand bare of swings
  stripped for the winter months
  slides and monkey bars go unused
  snow and ice are now
  the playground toys
  hills and sleds more fun
  cars parked in the lot
  rusted chains on tires
  snow topping the roofs
  steam coming from hoods
  a blue purple sky tops
  a black outline of white
  snow over pale blue
  ice while an orange sun
  shines in the distance
  giving light on a cold winter day
  　

My Dentist

　
　
wider
don’t move
hold on
just a moment longer
you are okay
you’re doing fine
play the music
louder
if the noise
disturbs you
I’m sorry
for the taste
the pain
are you sure
that hurts
it isn’t supposed
to

From the Bus

there was a smile.
It started small,
a shy little curve.

Then it grew,
spread wide
across

the face of the sun
and the moon.
His eyes

were trapped
by that smile
caught by her lips

perfectly full
uncovered by paint.
The bus stopped.

People pushed
her past the door
Such a sad little smile

said goodbye.

Ready Class

　

On the floor in the circle are many things
Floating on a sea of gray--bumping up against
One another tossed by a wave of hands
A paper cube compliments a crane
While a Retablo carries St. Francis across the bay
A yellow ski hat sidles up to a shirt with stripes
Bold and brash it says “Hello again, we have met before.”
Sadly the nature of these things does not allow them
to move but I am not sad today and
They seem to sneak around--show up in unexpected places
On the gray of a perfectly flat surface
They juggle for position tugging each other to and fro
Beckoning to those outside to come on in
Black wood beads slip on out
Hey! Come back shouts Charlie Brown
He is shaped like a torn comic. He can do nothing
Weighted down by a heart-shaped rock
Perhaps like a machine that has forgotten how to work.
And then a bell rings……

Nose End

　

Well
I’ve lost
most
days are gray
rain
finds a path
falls
from nose end
Well
he’s gone
　
　
　

Talk About the Summer

　
Forest River Park
with its seaside beach
its man-made sea-water
pool a place to broil
in the sun play
in a green-grass park
slide down concrete slides
climb boulders scale walls
Gallows Hill Park
with its baseball park valley
surrounded by pine
a rocky car park holds
spectators and players
red, blue and golden socks
boys playing hard
for the home-park team
Talk about the summer
when I was twelve
watching those boys
play their games while
I sat on a painted pine bench
slid down concrete slides
scaled walls in a green-grass park
broiled on a sun-drenched beach
　
　
　
　

Dear God

Thankyou
for today
for this morning

I wake up
warm
filled

Wrapped
in a smile
daylight