This baby of mine is now 21. Amazing. He and I have changed so much. In my last poem I said the Nile River was Brazilian. If any of you astute readers caught my error, bravo. I am still cringing :)

In a Day

The sky can be four kinds of blue,
it can snow three variations-
sand snow, slush snow, silver snow.

At lunch I remembered cheesecake
and how long since I had a piece.
Two years, it was at a local restaurant,
and infused with lavender,
as was the vodka cosmopolitan I ordered.
So much can change in a day-
a car accident, the birth of a child,
heart attack, you say no or yes.
So much can change in a year,
all of the above
and a strand knotted with yays or nays.
I don’t miss booze most hours.
I’ll go back for the first,
forkfuls of the perfect cross section,
graham crust, sweet cream,
a light violet glaze.

Today I read the word ravenous
and wondered about the black bird,
do they consider one more
shiny object an addiction,
or unapologetically squawk and swoop?
Today I stopped myself from going
again to the thrift shop,
treasure hunt of earthly artifacts,
didn't bring wool and linen to a nest already full,
bound paper, pottery, silk.

I’ve had four kinds of happiness-
good friend at the airport anticipation,
just put on pajamas contentment,
post coital blisssnuggle,
roof over my head gratitude.
I’ve had three kinds of sorrow,
missing my dead father and brother,
sucking in my stomach judgement,
helpless when others suffer.

A man once studied the raven with a shaman.
He left his family and travelled great distance
for months to crouch on hard dirt.
One day his bones became hollow
and for a few minutes his soul took flight.
Urges can leave us with such training
but we may also ask for mercy.
Lately, if I close my eyes and wait for a word,
a strength, a softening,
it comes most of the time.
I have to look away and breathe though,
as we must
when something is quite beautiful,
or how babies gaze at us
and then glance away
while their limbs and brain gather.