Small Stones Saturday

Every week you get five more of the poems I write --every day I'm not writing in a blog, on my WIP or an article, I write a poem to keep the brain jogging around the park.  Here's this week's offerings.

At Gymnastics

The Grandmother
wearing a yellow sweater sighed
but she smiled.
I don't know
what she thought
when she looked out
at the girls
flipping and twirling
jumping and climbing,
but part of me hoped
once long ago
she could do all they were doing and more.

What my children take for granted
Tumblr, twitter, Linkedin, instagram,
Pinterest Facebook, google plus and blogspot.
I remain mostly ignorant...
about all of them.

But I know there is so much more
in the world, in all of time
than the internet can hold
I know what it is
to ride a bike down a street
without a helmet or destination
and to weather a skinned heart and knee
My knowledge may be obsolete
but it is also timeless.

Overheard

The Perfect Unspeakable Joy
of listening to your 8 year old
warble "Let it go...."
while she's in the facilities,...
as you wonder how
you will ever summon the will
to tell her to not do that.

The Cure

Thirteen goslings pooped in unison
and fluttered as they waddled away

and the mood of my teen
who rolled down the window just to honk
which had been miserable

was instantly better.


Perspective

The barred owl shuffled along the road,
stopped and stared into the headlights of our car.

Bored when we seemed to be doing nothing, ...
he pumped his great wings

and sought out other parts of the park,
hoping the next exhibit would include more interesting animals.