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The Waiting
--------------------

In bed
I see the flash
of lightning and
count
one
two
three
four
waiting
for the crack
of thunder
the storm is
supposed to be
one mile
away for every
second you
count
or
something like that
but I keep
counting
and
the thunder never
arrives
so
I give up and
take instead
to counting
the beats
of my heart
a somewhat less
exciting but
more reliable
measure
yet
there is
an endless
waiting
in that, too
for something
that never
comes.



4 Year Old Collecting Eggs
----------------------------------------

Little Katie
has a new hen
and the first egg
is something
of an event.
But when she
tries to gather it up
the brittle
shell splinters
and gooey yolk
runs between
her fingers and
onto the ground.
Without knowing it
she sees for
the first time
the fragility
of her world.



transformation
------------------------
(for Michelle)


her two little dogs,
beloved,
both dead within
months of one
another, and now
beautiful roses
grow on
their graves,
fur turned to
flowers beneath
the warm
autumn
sun.

How's things Hero?

Glad you came on board.

I liked these poems. The immediacy, the earthiness, the yolk in her fingers. You struck a chord.

In peace,
Adam

Hi Hero ~

Your first poem reminds me of some of the counting I've done in storms, though I never transferred it to my heart.

I love your second and third poems... especially the coupling of the gooey yolk running between her fingers and onto the ground [I can 'see' the look on her face] and the...

Without knowing it
she sees for
the first time
the fragility
of her world.

Katie's egg experience is such a great metaphor for what's to come in life.

I also really appreciate how you transformed loss into rebirth [and your line "fur turned to flowers"] with Michelle's loss of her two little dogs.


~ Lizzy

who wrote these poems?

mat james wrote:
who wrote these poems?

I wrote them. Why?

I see you're in Australia, too!