I believe in the rush of a golden sunrise;
first the tips of the evergreens brighten, along
with the oaks and the maples that are tall and full
of wisdom, then slowly climbing its way down
along the horizon until finally reaching earth’s
padded forest floor where I stand waiting to be
among the showering brilliance of light with its
warmth and comfort, baiting me to accept what
the day may bring, or what I might make of it,
and willingly with a comfortable confidence, I do.
I’ve watched restrictions of success cripple people. And couples. Standards ripped them apart. They are left with .5 children and 50% parenting access. All for the glass ceiling. I hope to never forget it’s the simple things that matter most. Being there to see Gavin sit on Megan’s lap while watching a movie. Getting up early to make coffee. Waiting to hear my two hearts come down stairs. “Daddy!” His feet patter at me.
“Morning, Honey.” Her long dark hair is a ruffled mess and it’s incredibly attractive.
It’s the simple things. It really doesn’t take much to make me happy. It never has.
Bukowski just called, told me he didn’t
want to talk and hung up.
Hemingway is in the barroom drinking
whiskey from a half gone bottle, cleaning
a rifle. Not caring who just called.
Vonnegut is on the porch smoking
cigarettes while looking at a dead
raccoon in the road and repeating, “so it goes.”
Steinbeck is petting Charlie in the living
room. Calm. Collected. Ready to go.
Emily is standing silently at the top of the stairs.
Frost is outside beckoning for everyone
to join him. It’s beginning to snow.
I’m sitting alone with my family wondering
who these people think they are.
I’m writing a new book. I’ve noticed I’ve paused in the writing of it. Though, not for lack of material. I’ve plenty of that. It’s because it’s too important to get this right. I want to write so well it can’t go unnoticed. And to rush it, would be to ruin it. I’ve done that before. I need to remember the only rules to the writing of this book are the ones I place within myself.
Thanks for reading. I have snippets of time to publish poems on this platform, write the book, and comment back. So please, for me, have some fun today, and a drink (even juice) so you can mentally cheers me. I’ll need the push! Next spring we build our new house. A long time dream finally coming to fruition.
p.s. Most of my time is happily placed exactly where it ought to be.