survival

Kitchen is for Dancing


We were young

Music was in our feet.

My older sister and I

left with the chores

of the evening after dinner

to clean the kitchen.

We would wash the dishes

And as we did, we danced.

Rock and roll

And beach music,

the shag was the rage,

linoleum floor.

Our grandparent’s home

and white wash cupboards.

a small kitchen table

With a swinging door to the dining room.

A door we kept closed

So we could dance to the radio

Sitting on the yellow table

Loud enough to get by …

not loud enough to get caught

Elvis, the Beatles and Buddy Holly

Transformed into our bandstand

As we found ourselves dancing

In grandma’s kitchen …

CMM © 2022

The Eve


The Eve

The eve of New Year has arrived

The fog rolls in covering the lamppost

The dismal air filled with a chill of a pending storm.

Maybe this is it, maybe the fog will usher the new year.

Maybe the white snow trailing behind it will bed the past.

The squirrels will scamper into the nested trees

The only sound when we venture out will be our footsteps,

The screams of the last murder of crows left behind with hope.

The hope to find the last field just turned from farmer’s plow.

Crunching the frozen ground laid by winter’s arrival,

We are brought into the silence of ourselves

Maybe then, we will think to pray.

CMM.  2021

Massachusetts Street


We walked the dusty street,

Leaves have blown against the cracks

Stores and restaurants show signs of stress.

Some venders closed for certain days 

Others open with StreetSide cafes in front.

Others boarded up with RIP signs, now, ‘Closed.’

People’s smiles are still covered with mask

Some fun, some just black or white

So, you look at the eyes to see, if they are smiling. 

Sometimes you think they are 

Sometimes you are pretty sure they are not.

But you smile anyway and hope they noticed.

I see the sweet owner with her blonde hair

Step out to freshen the café tables 

She is only a shadow of her old self.  

She has lost weight but still just as lovely

Her spring dress is apron adorned.

She busies herself, she survived.   

The trees line the streets in autumn

The dead leaves continue to fall 

Symbolic of the last 18 months.

The wind has a familiar air of a post war, 

a time where everything was changed

A time now, where it will never be the same.

I walk with a friend who knew the before 

She now feels the after 

We, stop to shop for Christmas

We smile and remember 

We talk of hope and December 

And for a moment, we feel a healing touch.

copyrighted: 2021 CMM

Morning


Stretching so far

I try to see

the dark coal sky

hanging over me.

Constellations I recognize

spatter light in my eyes.

Laughing they drop

right before the horizon

turns crimson red.

I see the universe go on ahead.

CMM. © 2021

Simplicity


autumnal change

Evolved earth sustains itself

Among the flowers

Heart to Heart


A breath , a beat

Hearts connect eternity

Life begins, echo.

CMM © 2021

Past and Present


The gray stone,

Hundreds of years ago,

Others will pass

And I forgotten.

Time…

©CMM. 2021

Images


I ran this morning

On ice and snow

The trees glisten

The ice fairies glow

I hear the geese

Sound celebration

The storm is gone

Now jubilation

As I crunched

My shoes as I run

I looked up to see

A heart shaped sun

© CMM 2021

Haiku


Barrenness season

Frigid reminder of loss

Temporarily …

CMM © 2021

New Years Day


Breaking trail

the first day.

The year is now

a different number.

A cold night

a restless slumber.

2021 even sounds

better than before .

So slowly we open,

now close the door.

CMM. ©. 2021