One of my best memories of 2024 was ‘sealing the deal’ for my book
After hearing back from more publishers once they took a look
Self-publishing companies to partnership publishers and traditional ones, too
I pitched my manuscript to them to see what they could do.

The feedback was positive about my manuscript of rhyme
Poetic prayers and reflections of different lengths and kinds
Rooted in my faith
Each poem unfolded like I was on a sacred date.

I had not initially intended to write a book
But after some encouragement, the pep took hold of my foot
Stepping forward with old poems and new ones, too
Excitedly following what God was guiding me to do.

Thirty poems unfolded in a lovely way
With sentimental reason for the words at play
From faith to family, fitness, and career
The poetic topics were written with a pen of hope and not fear…

Written because I care
About touching lives both far and near
My words on the page
Expressed with peace and not rage.

Best memories often come from soulful alignment
Memories created from organic assignment
From fingers on the keyboard and pen on the page
The process for me is cleansing—like burning sage.

So, who is publishing my book, you ask
Wipf and Stock Publishers have taken on the task
To bring “Rhyming with God” to readers around the world
And I am so grateful for this publishing gem of a ‘pearl.’

Thank You, Dear God
For my best memories of 2024
Your guidance in my life, I appreciate and adore
Please guide me with writing more and more.

Amen.

There comes a time to stop
And finish a chapter in your book of life.
A time to bid farewell to the rat race.
A decision made to retire and enjoy the good life.
Except … two of my five children live at home.
One working toward an advanced degree.
The other still a teen with college ahead.
Neither fully independent yet.
Was pondering retirement irresponsible
Considering those familial obligations?
I reviewed every possible scenario,
And came to the conclusion that
It seemed to be an imprudent time to stop working.
It wasn’t that I was no longer productive.
I could still do the job well,
When I wanted to.
It’s just that my heart wasn’t in it,
And both my heart and gut told me it was time
To set aside my sales tools and retire.
But to what?
A life of morning coffee or tea,
Blending into an afternoon newspaper or book read,
Giving way to an evening of television?
I knew that it didn’t have to be that.
I have recently fancied myself a writer,
A part-time amateur for sure.
I rationalized that retirement would bring me
All the additional time I needed
To promote and sell my writings!
But would I then be retired,
Hawking my thoughts as merchandise
Rather than the equipment I once offered?
The solution was so simple.
I will be a writer without selling one single word.
I just need to write.
For myself.
With a purpose ahead of me,
I chose to retire in 2024.
It wasn’t easy to disentangle from my career.
It was difficult to set aside the ways and habits
That led to past professional successes.
It was painful to let go of career plans
That will forever remain unrealized.
There are work tendrils still attached to me,
But they grow weaker and fewer each day.
I closed the chapter of my life
That I called my job
To enjoy my retirement.
But that is not the end of my book.
I have begun writing my next chapter,
As an author,
Creating for myself.
I’m grateful for readers
Who choose to spend their time
Exploring my thoughts.
But I’m not dependent upon them
To find validation in my narratives.

Briskly shuffling my feet, brushing off the chill of the morning air. Everyone piling into the car which had been packed the night before. Sun hasn’t even risen, and we must remain on schedule. Arriving late, we cannot do, our flight will not delay. An hour’s drive to arrive, finally we made it. Finding a parking space, easy, but why am breezing by the loading dock for the second time? Check in bags, boarding pass, on to the next line. TSA, put that away, no water bottles getting by.

Done and done, now we await our plane to arrive. I’ve never flown before and for my children, bravery will I perform. Another line, but this time onto the plane we’ll ascend. Down the small hallway, I see the small entry, leading into a compact space. The engines rave and the tires roar. Into the sky, we lift, up, up, we soar, turn, then we shift. Below my feet there is no surface only streams of influx, keeping this tin can afloat. Turbulent tumults rattle my seat, but the fear I thought I’d have, was nowhere to be seen. This challenge I carried all my life must now proclaim its defeat.

The first descent lays over in Orlando; sunshine and a warm breeze. Our second descent brings us to paradise, our long-awaited event. A roar of applause washes over the passengers, and beautiful song over the intercom. A song that rings out in my heart and from my mind the words have never departed, “Yo te quiero Puerto Rico, yo te quiero Puerto Rico.” Departing at a fast pace, I make my way to the baggage carousel. I break into a Sprint eager to make your acquaintance. When I finally laid eyes on you, my contentment I did not hide. “Bienvenido a Puerto Rico,” your words dressed as fancy invitations. Bystanders stare as our affections overflow proven by shrieks and squeals.

Finally, we made it, can’t believe we’re all here. I’m standing in the place I thought I’d never see. The climate is a major change. The air warm, thick, and heavy. It sticks to me as if I’ve just been layered in sweet candy. The night sky and the beautiful landscape dazzle as my eyes dance from one side to the other. So many things to see and everything I want to discover. The homes sprinkle the mountain sides as colorful as the rainbow. Each neighbor a different flavor, though our dwelling was my favorite one of all. La Casita Amarilla, even more beautiful than the pictures told. Your face is bright and not ashamed. You’re small but very bold. Luscious green grass surrounds your exterior, beautiful mountain ranges paint the background. In the dark, it is to me, that the Coqui sings, while in the hammock to and frow I softly swing. The sun shines bright, rising early to give light, like a kiss, it also offers its warmth generously, just like an embrace. The rain comes down with the beautiful sound shhhhhhhhhhhh, it calls me from my sleep. This extravagant curtain on every side, glistening, it surrounds me, from heaven to the earth coming down, bowing at my feet.

I don’t feel like a visitor, this is the place that I am meant to be. The people are kind, smiling as you pass. A gentle nod, a Buen Dia, along with Buen provecho as you prepare to feast. The streets are full of music. The Bachata a consistent bidding. The food has made me smile. The ocean has captured my tears. My shoes are dusted with sand and seashells have my pockets full. I’ve been allowed to place my hands on family I haven’t seen in a year or more. This island has brought so much joy, enough for me to store.

I couldn’t help but shed a tear and let it wash away with the swell. The thought of leaving you behind, this story I don’t want to tell. Every year we come together sharing our day of birth. Crossing the ocean, for you, I came in honor of our day. May we both live to see it this is something that I pray for. My best friend, the girl with the same face, my lifelong playmate, my twin. Being this far away from you is a challenge proven. The love we have for one another no one can ever ruin.

As I pack my bags, I bid farewell to this Island that has been so kind. The hardest thing to leave here is you girl, my silent communicator, the reader of my mind. I take my seat, and my heart breaks. I couldn’t keep it in. Bye for now, best friend, I can’t wait to see you again. Long layovers finally bring us home to Oklahoma. The cold breeze welcomes as the emptiness makes its grip. The cold night air whips around, whispering in my ear. Already I miss you and there’s no way to make you appear. 2,232 miles away My heart now resides. I swapped it in exchange for the one I now clutch on a key chain. The chill makes me pull my jacket closer. The breeze of blue surrounds, but a warm glow is left in my heart, more than enough to warm me.

As I drive the trees wrap around my view
Of the winding road
I’ve been dropped in a kaleidoscope
Trapping me in this peaceful, natural oasis
The sun shines through the leaves
Shading the variety of colors into a hundred more
And placing a delicate warmth upon my skin
While crisp air twirls my hair mischievously
And the houses sprinkled into the long stretches of fields
Greet me with future ideals
And the bright blue sky sneaks a peek at me
In curiosity

I am not sure where I will go
But this is why I do
This moment
Reminds me to live
Reminds me to breathe
Simple beautiful things

The colors from the day take their leave
And the stars hide behind the clouds
The darkness turns the trees into silhouettes
Painted onto the sky
The air is cold and damp
A tender wind whispers in my ear
As the street lamp’s lights dance on the water
A walk with the group
No one really together
But no one really alone

The night simply is what it always has been
But it’s like each facet of its inherent nature
Was made to be admired by me
And how lucky to be me
I slow my pace
And watch them from behind
How lucky to be me

I am not sure where I will go
But this is why I do
This moment
Reminds me to live
Reminds me to breathe
Simple beautiful things

Amongst the others
One holds my attention
My eyes always chasing him
In every room we’re in
As his voices crashes into my ears
I am reminded
Not only my mind
But my entire body
I can not hide behind
The roles I’ve played to pleased
I am whole to him
He lets everything I am rest in his arms

Hours pass by like a sparse wind on a summer day
There is a sense of pride
When I foster his childlike laughter
And earn the soft serious honesty
But I feel the minutes begin to slip away
And I focus my gaze towards the ground
Allowing my hair to cover my glossy eyes
My hearts sprints off from the anticipation
Of our always fleeting time
Making my voice taste insincere and bitter
He instructs me to face him
And though my mind hesitates
My body has already begun to listen

He flashes the most particular smile
I’ve studied his many faces
This one is rare
One truly made for me
One of comfort and reassurance
It’s not candid, nor forced
But purposeful and true
It’s a hundred words in one silent action
It’s a hundred miles of distance wiped away in one close movement
I wish my eyes could take pictures
To capture this face
For it to never fade,
Never change
Forever stay still in my memory
But the only stillness is under the weight
Of another goodbye

Every natural instinct would have me run
Feel the wind wash away the numbing pain
But with you
I must fight
I must let my tears burn my face
I must let my hands stab me in the back
To pull you closer
I must conquer the following fear of loss
For this feverish feeling of love
He is-
Our friendship-
These feelings only mustered by him-
The thoughts that only his hand can hold-

I am not sure where I will go
But this is why I do
This moment, every moment we share
Reminds me to live
Reminds me to breathe
Because I can only hope to be
What you are to me
By just existing
My simple beautiful thing

I planned for control,
planted smaller flowers and mellow vegetables—
safe, tame, and predictable.
Like the way I trick myself
into settling for less, in my life,
than the wildness I truly crave.

But those wildflowers—
they grew on their own,
surviving seasons
I didn’t tend to them.
They outlasted my doubts
and outgrew all my plans.

I almost pulled them from the ground,
dismissing their potential
for survival—
a plan that was just a way to get by,
hoping for the best.

Yet here they are:
a reminder to make space,
to trust what grows unseen.
Dreams, like wildflowers,
can seem untamed and inconvenient,
but they hold the beauty
and strength we need most.

Without them,
the cucumbers would have nothing to grasp,
the bees would leave,
and I’d miss the hundreds of blooms
that make it all worth it.

I used to have an outie, and now I have an innie! March 19th, 2024, what most people know as Taco Tuesday had an entirely different meaning for me as Taco Tuesday. It is 6am and I am at the UNC Hospital in Hillsborough. I have checked in for my procedure, had my vitals taken and signed all the paperwork I needed to sign. I have met my surgical team, been asked a hundred questions. I have texted my family and friends and my friend who is staying with me while I recover has the important numbers to call to let people know I am ok. We are just waiting on the surgeon at this point. He is there by 7am and I am being wheeled off and I don’t remember a thing until almost 6 hours later when I wake up in recovery.

I was born a boy. Thats what everyone told me. Thats the anatomy I had. That was my life. It was a life filled with chaos and confusion. It was a life pretending to be a boy, trying to survive this world because back then in the 80’s and 90’s people did not understand people like me. So, for my whole life I wore a mask, I was an actor playing the role everyone wanted to see me in. A boy, a man, a father.

It was a life filled with showering in the dark, hating my own anatomy to the point I would wish for bad things to happen to it. It was a life plotting out how long it would take to bleed out if I cut it off and if I made the call to 911, waited ‘x’ amount of minutes before cutting it off and flushing it down the toilet so it can’t be reattached, I would make it to the hospital in time to survive and I wouldn’t have to worry about thing between my legs anymore. Years of uti’s because I could not bring myself to touch it unless I was self-harming it. Years of self-harm and attempts at unaliving myself because I hated my body so much. Depression and anxiety. Panic and C-PTSD. This was my life. Constant emotional pain. Physical disgust. I would smile for you, but the eyes betrayed me every single time.

Finally in 2018 after so much self-abuse and a breakdown, I transitioned. What followed was varying levels of happiness but more pain because of how society treats me. But milestone after milestone led me to March 19th, 2024. Fighting and suing my employer for health insurance coverage and here we were, the big day. A 5.5-hour surgery where my genitals and pelvic floor were going to be rearranged into a beautiful vulva.

I awoke to my friend with me and the nurses hovering over me. Everything went swimmingly. I know I was still pumped full of pain meds but as they wore off, I never felt pain, only happiness. A surgeon healed me where anti-depressants and therapy could only put band aids on my mental pain. Today I get to joke that now I only have regular people problems in my life, and I have to say I would take this any day of the week. Finally, not only does my body look and feel like it should. But my soul is healed. March 19th, 2024, my life was saved and I finally found happiness in myself. It is the day that I will remember for the rest of my life. That sense of finally being whole, of being complete, of being me, nothing will ever compare to that. In the few short months since that day, I have already forgotten a lot about what that anatomy felt like, I am only left with the memories of pain which are far outweighed by the happiness I experience every single day now.

Life may throw challenges at me still. There may be times of stress, grief, or anguish, but all I have to do is remember that day to know that I can accomplish anything.

In the midafternoon on a hot July day,
The call came in, he was on his way.
A month premature, he just couldn’t wait,
To meet all his family, regardless of date.

“He’s coming soon, I need you, Mom.”
My girl groaned and she panted, with pain overcome.
“Of course I will be there, to help and support.
As long as required, the time long or short.”

The drive never-ending, I was cautious and tense,
My thoughts whirring madly, with worry, suspense.
The hours swallowed up in anticipation,
Of meeting my grandson, God’s newest creation.

While still en route, my phone gave a whine,
The wee lad was here, Mom and babe doing fine.
“I can’t wait to meet him, the dear little boy,
To add to our family, a bundle of joy.”

Adherence to rules in the NICU was firm,
No visitors yet, no risking the germs.
I embraced Mom and Dad, sadly turned away,
I would wait to return another day.

Disappointment was lurking, but soon dismissed,
When I picked up my granddaughter, now a big sis.
Excitement, elation, and pride overflowing,
“I’m a sister, Gran!” Her bright eyes were glowing.

The time passed by quickly, we sang silly songs,
Told stories, drew pictures, the bonding was strong.
Her five-year-old giggles, so blissfully sweet,
Making quality memories, Gran’s joy near complete.

And then came the summons, the much-waited call,
We entered the NICU, we walked down the hall.
Met by a chorus of pumping machines,
Monitors beeping with bright glowing screens.

Other babies were crying, in colic distress,
Inconsolable feelings, the need to express.
Nurturing caregivers attempting to calm,
To comfort and soothe them, to offer aplomb.

Now there is our Benjamin, beloved prince,
Sleeping so soundly, contentment evinced.
Tubes, wires, and monitors tracking his pace,
I picked him up gingerly, gazed at his face.

Ten tiny fingers and ten teeny toes,
His velvety head, and a bitty snub nose.
Chest rising and falling the breaths coming quick,
Pacified cooing, a weak little kick.

“Hi, Benny Boy, my cute little bro,”
She whispered so gently, her face all aglow.
“I’m your big sister, I’ll teach you so much,”
There was evident love in her look and her touch.

A nurse breezed through the door, glad news to foretell,
“Two more days, or tomorrow, if all is well,
You can take your boy home, escape from this place,
We’ll miss this sweet fellow, serene little face.”

We woke up next morning, got straight to our chores,
Tidied the bedrooms, and bathrooms and floors.
Baked special treats for Mommy and Dad,
Gran and her girlie, what fun we had!

We made ourselves pretty, prepared for the meeting,
Crafted a sign, a creative greeting.
Little Miss Harper, with nose pushed to glass,
Watching and waiting rewarded at last.

“They’re here, they’re here! Yippee, yippee!”
She raced to the door, shrieking with glee.
She slowed her step and softened her tone,
“Oh dear little brother, welcome home.”

Tears came to my eyes, watching the sight,
My two precious grandkids, my heart, my delight.
I cuddled them closely, both baby and sis,
And cherished the moment, a grandmother’s bliss.

Dear reader,

It was July in Orlando, Florida. The summer was at a peak, and my family was spending the day as it’s meant to be spent during this wonderfully torrid time of year–in water. Give me a reason to leave my vacation responder on to go floating off in an aquamarine pool somewhere, and we have ourselves the making of a great day. You see, we would be splashing around in one of Orlando’s premier water parks, Volcano Bay. I’d been anticipating this trip for a while now, and it was finally here.

We packed our belongings, crowded into the car, and made our way to the park. After missing an exit, finally finding the entrance, parking, getting on a bus, and navigating past check-ins, we were finally in.

Shortly after entering, if you walk a little ways forward and then look to the center of the park, you’ll see the steaming volcano that towers high above all the attractions. It houses the most formidable slide in the park–the Ko’okiri Body Plunge. This 70-degree,125-foot drop sends you into a fall that is wildly uncomfortable, yet at the same time, equally thrilling. I’d conquered it the year before by my lonesome, but this time, I had company in my two brothers. We used our wristbands to reserve our spots in the digital line and spent the day exploring the many adventures of the park.

My family and I had a blast rushing through the rapid river in our life jackets, winding through bright-colored slides in our water tubes, and tasting the delectable delights that the Whakawaiwai Eats offered us in pizza, hot dogs, and my personal favorite, jerk shrimp mac and cheese. I spent the day glancing at my band that gave an hours-long countdown, until the alert finally told me it was time to march up the volcano.

We ran pretty much the entire way up the unending flights of steps. After getting a little workout in that left me breathless at the top, I was just grateful to be there, dear reader–heavy breathing, hair frizzing and all.

As I moved closer to the front of the line and watched others nervously climb into the shuttle to launch into a multi-story descent, I became nervous. And when my brothers and I were finally next, my stomach was fluttering uncontrollably with butterflies. I thought about turning back, but in the midst of this anxiousness, I also couldn’t help but be excited.

When it was finally my turn, I stepped up to climb into the shuttle, stood with my feet criss-crossed in front of one another and my arms in a similar position, Black Panther style. I could see the people in the wave pool below me who were smaller now. The height was higher than it looked from the bottom, and even though I was a long way from the beginning of those steps when I first climbed up, I kind of wanted to go back to them.

But instead, I closed my eyes and yelled a “Whoo! Come on!” while waiting to drop. I heard the sound of drums from somewhere inside the shuttle, and as they increased in speed to build anticipation, my heart was pumping. I leaned further back against the slide and the stream of downward rushing water as I waited for the drop door to open underneath me in what felt like an eternity. Suddenly I felt the ground give way, and then I dropped.

The fall felt as terrible as you can imagine and came to an end just as it grew too intense. I felt myself plateau and the butterflies disappear, and in a matter of seconds, the feeling of the pool water rushing to my feet at the end of the slide told me it was over. It was done. I could enjoy the rest of my day.

I opened my eyes to the sight of crystal teal water glittering in the sunshine, and saw my family waiting for me and cheering me on. After brushing myself off from the adrenaline and exclaiming how crazy the ride down was, I joined them. Not long after, I saw my little brother come down the slide after me, then my older brother after that. It felt good to cheer them both on.

The feeling I had was unmatched for the rest of the trip. My favorite memory of 2024 wasn’t just conquering a slide I was afraid of, but doing it with people I love. Because it was great passing the finish line myself the year before, but even greater to see my brothers cross it with me this time around.

Turns out reaching new heights, or in this case, new depths, is that much sweeter with company.

Always learning,
Danielle

With you
at the edge,
toes in the water,
hands clasped.
The sun passes behind
the clouds.
I nuzzle you.

This is before.
Before my mouth has
known yours.
Before we held each other
naked in my lavender sheets.

The wind picks up
And I slide my feet between
yours.
I don’t feel cold in your
arms.
You lean in and
this won’t be the
last time our lips
meet.

The ducks inch around us.
People pass on their runs,
out to play basketball,
to take pictures in the
golden hour.

But we don’t see them.
All we know is the inches
of lips, the curl of
your cupid’s bow. The edge of
my tongue.
The way we can know eachother, like this.
Just here, with you.
Before.

Celebrating the smaller pieces of greater accomplishments can seem, in word, trivial. It is not the veritable light at the end of the tunnel, nor is it the very first step in the series of events leading to great aspirations. It is a comfortable middle ground that has been treaded on, and while it can seem mundane, the progress here is vital.
I have always challenged myself to grow, whether it be academically, emotionally, mentally, or physically… the list can go on indefinitely. The fact is, I crave personal enrichment. I am currently completing my undergraduate bachelor’s degree a bit “later” in life at 42 years old. I often mentally ridicule myself for not having had a clearer professional path when I was younger. I had my three children shortly after graduating high school and therefore directed my energies into raising them into the incredible young adults that they are. It is only now that I know exactly what I want to reach for, which is a career in grant and proposal writing. It is a unique niche that allows me to flex my writing skills while helping connect clients with communities, encouraging fellowship and growth.
Reaching beyond my known capabilities, I tackled a course this semester that pushed, pulled, tripped, mocked, and rattled me. It was an art course, of which I know nothing about, and my pursuance of it was both a necessity for an elective credit and a desire for a challenge. Just to keep things spicy, factors regarding both my physical health and the mental health of one of my children spun wildly out of control amid several major assignments that were due.
My thought process was along these lines:
“How am I going to contend with all of this?” “Why did I take this course?” “WTF was I thinking, pushing beyond my comfort zone?”
I then forced myself to see more clearly and began adjusting my line of thinking:
“How can I motivate myself from within?” “How can I flip the script on this whole situation?”
What was my solution? A reward jar that I affectionately named “My Star Jar.” Yes, that is right, a wooden reward jar (typically for young children) that little wooden stars are put into to track progress for goals. However, for me, it served as a visual representation of my continued perseverance and dedication to this course. I refused to fail. Each day that I had class, I put a star in my jar. After completing an assignment, I put a star in my jar. After my finals, I put a star in my jar.
I put my final star in my jar on December 16, 2024, when my instructor submitted my final grade, and my academic nemesis had been slayed. While I received A’s in all my other courses, I earned a B in this art course, and I was content with that. I was proud of my ability to look within myself and decide what would encourage me and help me face my fears and anxieties. It did not matter that it was a system created for children. Seeing my progress build with each star gave me the sense of fulfillment that I needed.
Completing this course along with my other ones this semester was nothing special. It was not my final semester, nor my graduation date. However, it was a powerful reminder that I can carry a great deal of weight, acknowledge it, and work through it without letting it define me.

An Arduous Climb to Heavyn
by nirve carmell

To The Unsealed Community:

so
a poem about the time
i posed
on top of my world
with a giant chicken:
community
a joint within
a brick within a brick
granting sanctuary
to the uninspired
the poet
molded into the earth
of their bed.

this year i embarrassed myself a lot. i took on a job as an apprentice art installer and mason at a museum. there i dealt with folx who reminded me of all my insecurities, because they looked and acted like the people who perpetuated them originally. sifting thru my heart, i realized the ways i was stoking these flames and made it my commitment to let go.
this is the longest i’ve held a job since i broke down from mental and physical illness two years ago. i’ve been in a nasty feedback loop with depression and type 1 diabetes for a decade now. i navigated the choice of transcending perceived danger and feeling the effort of that arduous climb to heavyn

by inviting in community

brick by brick.

i had many days where i wanted to give up and didn’t
and many days where i could give in
to the ebbs and flows
of recovery
and only by the grace
of my team
of knowing i could
fail over and over again
and still come home
did i enchant myself
into tru belief.

so
the chicken.

towards the end of my program’s run, we went to the National Gallery of Art in D.C.
on the roof
in the sun
i posed
exposed before the universe
and my crew
with no defense
but my two fingers
angled into
projected peace.

but better still
was it to stand
in the back
with my eyes closed
knowing exactly who
was around me.

as the year grows old
i give thanks
for the memories
that i had an active role in creating
that i may be lucky enough
to feel again
as they flicker
thru my mind’s eye
on my way out.

From: nirve carmell

I think I feel like I wish to swim out into the sea, past the boundary of the reef. I want to let myself swim until I exhaust myself, until my legs can no longer sustain myself, and I am forced to let go and float. I float on my back being carried and washed by the waves, pure exhaustion. I let the water drift my limp body any way it wishes. Will it drift me back to shore or out into the endless infinity of the sea? The unforgiving restless ocean, rocking its constituents, unpredictable and strong. Overpowering even. With the only hope for rescue being martyred saviors, happenstance, or the fortunate flowing back to an indeterminate shore.

I wish to swim out into the sea until I can swim no longer and see where it takes me, relinquishing control over myself and my life, and letting something else decide my fate.

Under the heat of the Dominican sun I am warmed in my soul. Salty breath and steady heart beat reminds me of the quotidian truth of inner peace. Bliss and calm, the same waves beating the sands sternly as they are meant to. I am here. I am where I ought to be. At any moment I can come back to the truth of my being which is everliving presence, awareness, stillness, and breath. The breath of life.

The sea reminds me of the possibilities.
The chaos of choice, the peace of knowing.
I rescind control, for an all-loving knowing.

Sunday morning, routine coffee mug full of hot, fresh-brewed coffee out of the 15-year old mr.coffee pot we got around the same time young me decided I like to drink coffee too. we sit outside on the deck that used to be filled with toys, now filled with tables, chairs, and adult-ish things as there are no kids that live here now. I sip on the hazelnut coffee my mom brewed; she remembered my favorite flavor after the one time I said it 5 years ago. I’ll let the sip linger on my tongue, praying the moment won’t pass before I allow it to consume me. my mom and I sit in silence, I think she’s sinking into the present too. we swirl our coffee in unison, knowing it’s getting cold because we have been savoring it for far too long now. we are in no rush to enjoy this cup; I would rather it turn cold while I find new ways to enjoy the present. it’s more than just coffee.
 

THIS NOTE NOT A PART OF THE SUBMISSION… this fresh piece, written last week, was a part of a very special moment – a personal epiphany really at age 70– that “It takes courage to be Happy.” Since been written, this piece has been read in two open mics, and well received.
=========================================================================

WINTER SUNDAY

I am defying winter
the cold and snow abound
by bare feet in sandals

even tho there is blue sky
visible thru the trees now
the branches are bare of happy green leaves.

A definition for being stuck,
in a certain defiance, a something
where the observation of a particular reality
is denied, where in that moment
seeing ain’t necessarily believing,
in wondering about the Webb Space Telescope
possibly having revealed an alternate view of the universe
(?really?) maybe it is only supposition
based on quantum physics?

Cold toes brings me back to
white, snowy realism
while questioning the faith I have in my brain,

why did that happen?
When loving another brings the pain
of separation, that great divide.

Twin reservoirs harbor cold water,
thick ice on top too, this winter Sunday
the cold wind blows my grey hair,
shivering, even tho I don’t want to.
What I can’t see diminishes my vision.
I do see the large, lone grey boulder, locked
in lakeside ice. Moose stand ‘way over there
my ears are in perfect order
hearing them call, EER-UGH, from the opposite shore.

—The American moose has a universal call between both sexes, the EER-UGH utterance varies with more emphasis on the ERR “syllable” in the does, and more emphasis on the UGH syllable in the bucks. When this poem is read on public, I am using the buck “pronunciation.”