Pink

Posted on April 28, 2015 by Maggie C

“Is he part Shar-Pei?” she asks. She hands my latte out the drive-through window. “All those wrinkles!”

Bella glares from the passenger seat, indignant at being mistaken for a male, let alone a Shar-Pei. Look at the pink collar, for Chrissake!

“No, she’s just a worrier, so her forehead wrinkles. Part boxer, part lab.” Part opportunist, waiting for me to set my drink in the cup holder between us.

A pink collar doesn’t necessarily indicate gender, I tell Bella as we drive away.

I know of a male dog named Pink. He’s black. He wears a pink collar. His owner, holding onto Pink’s pink leash, spoke of a prior pet dying of cancer. This is his tribute to the deceased pet. Pink doesn’t seem to care what color his collar and leash are. He’s comfortable in his masculinity. And he’s not a worrier like Bella.

I’m not going to worry either, I decide. I don’t want to get worry wrinkles on my forehead, lest someone mistakes me for a Shar-Pei and tries to collar me.

Bella is skeptical that that would ever happen. Her wrinkles unfold a bit as she stretches to lick the foam off the lid to my latte. You should worry, though, she tells me. After all, you think you’re conversing with a dog.

And next time? Ask for non-fat. My collar is getting a bit tight and I need to watch my figure.

Shar-Pei indeed!

If Only

Posted on April 24, 2015 by Maggie C

If I only had wings, 
I tell myself longingly,
I could explore so many new places,
savor so many new sights,
immerse myself in so many
new adventures.

Yes, I muse,
sighing as I sink further
into the soft cushions of the 
well-worn couch,
propping my perfectly functional feet
onto the matching well-worn ottoman.
If I only had wings...

Weekly Photo Challenge: Motion

Mother Earth

Posted on April 22, 2015 by Maggie C

She came into Being
whole and flawless,
yet we tried to
perfect Perfection
as if we somehow
knew better than God.

Sadly,
we were mistaken.

Rain Falls

Posted on April 14, 2015 by Maggie C

It’s two a.m. and the bars have evicted the last of the revelers.
Rain falls onto the deserted street and rolls into the gutter.
In a scant few hours, as passersby begin to stare,
he will pick himself up and move on.

Zen Garden

Posted on April 10, 2015 by Maggie C

Tall vertical stones
with their leaning rock consorts
float within a sea of
white sand and gravel
raked to perfection into
rippling waves in
a contrastingly
calm, even plane.

This little garden,
an oasis of zen energy,
unassuming and nonsanctimonious,
helps keep me afloat
when I find myself
tossed by waves of
undisciplined thought,

reminding me that I - 
like the garden -
am an amalgam,
not of sand and gravel and rock,
but of body, mind and spirit;
and that I, too,
am perfectly patterned
for my own even plane of
unassuming and nonsanctimonious
existence.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Afloat

Haiku Five ~ Sentinel

Posted on April 9, 2015 by Maggie C

trees stand sentinel
safekeeping the barracks of
soldiers long since gone

Daily Triumph

Posted on March 27, 2015 by Maggie C

Triumph - noun
1. the act, fact, or condition of being 
   victorious or triumphant; victory; conquest.
2. a significant success or noteworthy achievement; 
   instance or occasion of victory.

Sometimes a triumph is feted with 
a fanfare of blaring trumpets, 
a clamorous parade, and perhaps 
even a flaunting display of 
the coveted “spoils of war.” 

And sometimes...
it is met with a soft sigh
as the coolness of evening settles in,
and one can rest in the knowing
that they have survived -
nay, triumphed over - 
yet another day.

Photo #20 for Blogging U’s Photography 101 course. Subject: triumph.

Young Minds

Posted on March 14, 2015 by Maggie C

What do you see when you 
gaze at me with those 
trusting new eyes?
Who do you believe me to be?
Who do you believe you are to me? 
Or does it even matter?
Perhaps we are both the same entity. 

You have so much to explore 
and discover and learn.
I have so much to share and recount
and unlearn.
We can teach one another 
life lessons
along the way.

We will both grow older
but there is no rush.
You’ll learn to walk, then to run,
then to soar.
I’ll learn to slow down,
and to breathe more deeply.
I’ll learn to notice more details
and to be more appreciative, 
even of the little things.

When you close those 
curious new eyes at night,
where do you think I have gone?
Where do you go 
in that fresh young mind? 
Maybe you are already 
walking, running and soaring.
I’m already slowing down 
and breathing more deeply,
and appreciating life more.
Especially the little things…
like you.

Photo #10 for Blogging U’s Photography 101 course. Subject: mystery.

Sacrifice

Posted on February 20, 2015 by Maggie C

The sun eases into the molten lava of the evening sea,
a willing sacrifice to the gods of time.
The glorious sky imprints its beauty on my eyes and in my mind,
branding its memory as a tribute to this time, this place,
even though it will eventually fade to a translucent wisp.

This evening’s fog bank advances toward shore,
emboldened by the cover of darkness as the sea
cools back to a rolling field of blue.
Feeling the dampness on my skin,
I am reminded of a parallel fog whose ghostly folds
enwrap my brain, hiding memories,
while day by day, sunset by sunset,
my sentience becomes
a sacrifice to the gods of time.

It’s comforting in a way,
how life’s pains soften and worries ebb.
But it’s also sad as I lose my past,
and forget how to do even the simplest of things.
And forget the names
and faces
of my children.

As the sun rests on the ocean floor
awaiting its turn to emerge into tomorrow’s dawn,
I wonder if it, too, feels comforted,
by the cool serenity of the water’s depths.
I wonder when I will emerge again,
and in what form.

But for now, I turn my back to the sea
and retreat to firmer ground
knowing that the fog is not far behind.

In memory of my father (1922-2012)

What Rhymes with Stanza?

Words at rest, words at play

Tag Archives: humanity