Here Today

I wrote a blog post for tonight, but it wasn’t coming together. I gave it to my wife and had her rearrange the words into a poem. We love words. Here’s what happened …

a lot here today
busy neighborhood people
drive election signs into the ground
arrange white folding garage sale tables
coax gasoline-scented appetites of sleepy-eyed lawn mowers

wind rustles through light, willowy tree branches
imploring blossoms coo with innocent, selfish infancy
moving, crying out for more
more
more

north 18 hours
family battles through a blizzard
headed home from grandma’s funeral
blind highway
they are stuck
stuck

life moves with intoxicating enchantment
we grill, spin wheels of anticipation
forced vision recalls
that everything is different
18 hours away

consumed with childishness
pressing desires and blindsight
we wait to grow up, round out
lonely after loss
after loss
after loss

there, snowstorm
elsewhere, earthquake
different places and times
it’s all different
it’s all the same

listening to the wind
or ourselves