Tag Archives: parenting


24 Nov

It’s been three nights without a visit.
Even Mom and Dad fail to explain her absence
but suppose it to be weather related.
Patient, expectant, the girl reconfirms the presence
of the tooth and scrap of paper that says,
read the questions in the letter on the table. 

Finally, tiny written answers penned by one
who self describes as no taller than our salt shaker 
and tells of a Canadian blizzard.
I examine the coins, marveling at a fairy’s strength
to carry the two golden Sacagaweas—beautiful,
but unpopular with the grown up public

who have settled and decreed these be received
from none but a parking garage payment machine.

Catch Again

6 Sep

Okay I’m ready, toss the ball.  Grounder.  Pop-up.  

Whoa, nice one!  Good arm!  
That knocked the dust off my mitt!

Whoops, crazy hop!  Get your glove up.
Switch sides, I’ve got sunglasses.  

Now you throw what I throw.  I want to do a jump catch.  
Hey!  That’s too high!

Dad, watch this—TRICKED YA!  
You didn’t even know I had a tennis ball!

Suppertime?!  Just one more, I mean one of each—
grounder, pop-up, fastball.

Do we have to go in?  Okay.  Hey Dad?  
When can we play catch again?


Pacifier At Night

9 Jun

You wake in the night and sit there.
You can’t make it better
because you know
you’ve lost it.  You need help,

so you weep and wait.  By and by,
hands fumble through sheets
until they locate the hidden
place it came to rest.

Those same hands find you,
find your face, your
lips…okay, there you go.  Now,
lay your sleepy head on the pillow.

Hot Water

27 Dec

Under house. Crawl
Space. Three days.
Water heater. Anger.

Plastic pipe. C-ment.
Sore back. Stiff neck.
Grave glare.

Eight-year-old. Small
Hands. Unafraid.
Chips in. Questions.

Satisfied. Crawls out.
My face. Turnabout.
Wide grin.