On the Eve of my daughter's graduation: in which I wax nostalgic, and pray

high school graduation

coming back to town from the 

job that I'd already started 

      (summer camp lifeguard

      isn't that the dream)

we walked in the ceremony

moving tassels from one side

to the other

after awkwardly shaking hands with 

   the principal

   the superintendent

   maybe a coach?

            (it was texas, after all)

and then we left in our cars

up and down the main street

stopping here and there

      houses, parks, stores

somehow I recognized at the time, that the

freedom from adulthood, coupled with a

responsibility to nothing but learning

   born by us middle class high school students

was a vanishing gift

   which we hadn’t fully appreciated

in the morning I left … again

off to new life at camp,

new life at college

***

now I see it from another side

and I hope her memories are good

      her foundation is solid

            her future is full of new life

Grief: after the death of Love

Unwanted
Like the broken chips settled to the bottom of the bag
a remnant of something
    that was once valued
they're no longer worth reaching for

Unstable

Like the ground underfoot

Terra Firma, constantly reliable

   the foundation of everything

until the earthquake

rips away what once felt solid

    leaving no point of reliable reference

Desperate

Like diving into the deep end

    to pick up pennies tossed there

how many can you get?

    one, two, three, four ... probably one more

but your breath's suddenly gone

    and you're still twelve feet down

frantic, clawing the water

    there's not enough traction to move quickly up

  you're where you don't belong

    and you have to escape

the panic hangs on even 

    when you're back on solid ground

Incomplete

Like an infant wailing for mom

    who's only just gone to the grocery store

    a ten minute trip for mom

but an infant's eternity, anticipating

    an isolation that may never end

April Hike through the Woods

Autumn leaves
recently freed from
Winter's frozen blanket
probably did crunch underfoot
before the snow fell

today, though, they soften
our steps, cushion our footfalls;
until the trail descends,
we walk easily

as we begin to lose elevation
our steps are slower, more cautious
conversation pausing, while our
concentration turns to
hoping friction is strong enough
to hold in place
autumn's leaves under our feet

but when the down is done
and every next step
is level with the one before
the Trail becomes once again
what carpet only dreams about