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
autumnal change
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
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
Eagle and Child Inkling 