Second World

I wouldn't have to whine
if the sun would only shine.
But I guess that it does
pretty much all of the time.
That lucky old sun
just keeps rolling around,
so I guess it's the clouds
that are getting us down.
We think, "If I were homeless,
I could spend more time outside."
Okay, maybe we don't think that,
but we think along those lines.
If only, if only,
we didn't have to strive
as if it's such a chore
just being here, alive.
We're sick of first world stressors
but we don't want third world strife.
Is there a second world that's just right?
Or do we need a second life?

December Rhymes With Remember, songified

Here's the last poem I wrote, "December Rhymes With Remember," turned into a song.

December Rhymes with Remember

December rhymes with remember.
I remember liking the snow
and loving the feeling of sugar highs reeling
and dancing to Mannheim on the stereo.

Christmas pretty much rhymes with wish lists
for new stuff and happy days of yore.
But I'm sure my first year I just wanted mom near.
My wish list was love and not much more.

I can't make Christmas feel like Christmas.
I might have to feel like a child.
But I'm all grown up and sometimes I feel down.
Like when all of the carols rhyme child with mild.

Maybe Mary felt down sometimes,
whether or not she was mild.
She had some stress and some things on her chest
that she'd have to ponder awhile.

The wise men who brought Jesus three gifts
weren't wishing to go back in time.
Nostalgia lay dead when they turned their heads,
a new life, a new king to find.

And Jesus, he was just a baby.
He didn't look back, just above.
If we look back far enough, to what's newer than stuff,
like that baby, our list will be love.

Back

Our internet is back
and faster than before.
This thing could change your life.
But it cannot give you more.

Mark My Words

Mark my words– with a red pen–
I know I can do better.
I'll be making changes.
For now please make this redder.

Scratching Our Heads

We'll plan our every move while lying in our beds
and find that we are still taken by storm.
Change will come; it seldom warns,
and we'll all be left scratching our heads.

Different Nations

Dear cousin who I haven't seen,
we've moved up a generation.
We've often lived so far apart–
for years in different nations.
But now that you're a doctor
and now that I'm a mom,
you'd think that one of us had moved
to Greece or Vietnam.
And not because our jobs are different
(although they really are)
but because our lives are both so full.
That's what makes our nearness far.

I Hate Nostalgia

Have I ever told you about how I hate nostalgia?
When I was a kid, everyone just focused on what was happening that day,
but right about the time I got to high school, everyone started talking about
how bad everything was getting,
and "this nation" this and "this nation" that.
It made me feel like I was about to enter the world
at the worst it had ever been.
It made me want to not grow up or bring children into this worst-ever world.
Because what would I tell them? About how it used to be better?
That's why I wish it was like when I was a kid,
when everyone just focused on what was happening that day.
I hate nostalgia.

Pictures in a Box

We found your pictures in a box.
After all, they were not lost.
Your bright red hair, your sweater vest–
it seems you saved your smile best.

Celebrate Responsibility

Back home before the fireworks,
because I have a baby
and babies are not freedom.
Lets have fireworks on Labor Day and Mother's Day and Father's Day,
and maybe not so late at night,
to celebrate responsibility.

Australia

We always wanted to visit Australia,
and now you're going to be living there.
That exotic land of kangaroos,
and dingos, and koala bears.
But as you know, Australia is normal,
and though it's on the other side of earth,
you'll always feel right side up,
yes, even at first.

Right Now

In the morning sun, when your shadow is long,

I see how you're growing, healthy and strong,

and how you will be so tall someday

and what a joy it will be to watch you play.

And when it is later, almost noon,

your shadow curls up, almost like a cocoon;

I remember when you were a baby just born

and I long to hold you like on your first morn.

And as the day goes, and the sun sets too fast,

I think of the present, the future and past,

and your shadow gets longer, and you're a day older

and a little voice whispers, "Right now– you should hold her."

Careening

Little Miss Independent
is careening (it's the stage between walking and running)
around the library.
She's heading for the door,
her eyes are gleaming,
and it's a little scary.

Progress

Some progress seems to happen by
just keeping up with time.
Some progress must be built from wreckage
time has left behind.

Do Better

When we know better,
we do better,
they say.
Not necessarily,
but where there's a will
there's a way.

Story

Prairie Home Companion
is my companion
as I drive home across the prairie.
At church they asked where I'm from
and I said where I live
but isn't there more to everyone's story?
In Lake Wobegon,
all the women are strong,
and I'm sure they've lived there their whole lives.
But even up there,
life is not always fair
or simple enough to be summarized.

First Things First

First things first,
pick the thing that is worst
and change it.
Then do what's next,
but don't change what's best.
Just rearrange it.

Shade

Some trees outlive us.
Some trees we outlive.
And if everything stayed alive
to shade our perfect lives
we would have to be
the very first to die.

In These Two Weeks

In these two weeks since I have written,
the first warm days of spring have come,
and we have spent no little time
making up for lack of sun.
And we have talked until we've found
where our sameness ends
and then we've talked until we've found
a way to still be friends.
And I have pushed the stroller fast
for miles on the trail
and we've come home, sat on the step
and sorted through the mail.
And then we pruned the apple tree
which had been getting thick
and you reached out too far to lop
one more superflous stick
and that is when the ladder fell
and so, of course, did you.
I rushed you to the doctor
just like when you had the flu
except this time your eyes were rolling
back into your head
because your pinky snapped in two.
I'm glad that you weren't dead.
And now you have some little screws
holding the bone together
and a blocky splint to wear
in this nice springy weather.
And our baby took several steps
until she stopped and saw
she was too far up off the ground
so she dropped down and crawled.
And I made logos and labels and emails
and you made calculations
and tips and wages to put in the bank
to save for a downpayment.
Our seedling have sprawled across my desk
and into pots on the floor.
I am surprised how much they've grown
but maybe we've grown more.

Life With the Blinds Closed

You live life with the blinds closed
but I am here to pull them open
with a zipping sound as I pull the chord down.
Yes, soon you'll be livin' and hopin'.