The Simple Things: A Poem

A bird cracking into a peanut
The sound of soothing melodic tunes drifting in and out of my background
Incense stinging my nose with tranquil breezes

Taking a deep breath, my muscles are starting to let go.
Paint on my fingernails dries
Thoughts of the work week ahead start to interfere
Pushing them out, I notice darkness approaching around me.

A snore lets me know my husband is still alive
Soft hums radiate from my computer
There is no other place I'd rather be.

How nice to just sit and coax in nothingness
Your mind meshing into the keystrokes
Legs crossed I demand nothing less than silence.

The bird is quiet save the crackling of the peanuts.
Thank goodness for peanuts.

To My Baby Boy: A Poem

You started out as an idea, a thought, a spark in my imagination.
I went on with my daily routine pushing you aside.
One day I had a feeling you made yourself known.
Two pink lines gave you away.
Then another two just to make sure.
To finalize your existence another two.
After six lines, there was no escaping you.


You were happening
Inside each day you grew from a peanut to what you are at this very
moment.

I¹m not sure what you¹ll be like.
It seems you are pretty calm, reserved
Until you kick but then you still are methodic and rhythmic
Are you going to be stubborn like I am?

From your first pictures, you look like your Dad.
He says there is no way to tell but I know.

When you come to us we will love and cherish you.
Dad sings to you now and you seem to like it.

Thanks for not being too hard on me through your growing time.
I love you already.

Summer to Fall: A Poem

The wind blows in crisp, confident, clean
Carrying with it burning leaves, twigs, and the crunch of fall.

An apple cinnamon candle elates my senses
reminding me of running into huge piles of leaves.
They close in around me

We go get hot cider with red hots in it to warm us up.
The candies tingle my taste buds.

Through the corn maize we lose ourselves.
Stalks higher than the heavens loom as they sway in the breeze.

I pull my jacket higher up on the nape of my neck and feel my nose begin to run.
I don't mind it replacing the hot summer sun.

Under the stars we curl up in the hay bales.
The bumps along the trail send us deeper into our cushiony straw.

At the campfire we warm our reddened fingers.
My marshmallow burns off the stick.

Erasing my agression into the knife as it plunges into the head of the pumpkin.
Scraping out the seeds, I grow weary anticipating the face.

I pop out the eyes, and the juicy mouth begins to form a frown
mirroring my little brother's sharp grimace.

An ice pack goes onto his little head as he overcalculated the jump across the ditch to the pee tree.

I'm so glad its fall.