We like our joy unhygienic

Today we gathered up
the juicy joy of the earth
and held it in our hands.
Maybe, just maybe,
some of us popped it
straight in our mouths.

These days go on forever.

As the sun streams in, I try to put
my girl to bed.
Outside, people in yellow socks
are running around looking for beer.
I don’t mean that metaphorically;
they are actually
running, and they are searching for beer,
and when they find it, they will drink it.
Loudly.
I would honestly rather be right here,
reading Berenstein Bears and
Kureyon No Kurokun.
Which is nice to know, since this
is where I am.

Oh, Portland.

Portland, you’re killing me.
Even the people at the POST OFFICE
are nice.
Even the people at the GAS STATION
are nice.
I’m going to sprout flowers from
all my orifices
soon.

One step at a time

We don’t have a table or chairs yet.
I haven’t said goodbye properly
to some of my favorite people.
I’m drowning in email.
But we have flowers.

The beginning of wisdom: hot water

My list is so long.
It keeps growing.
I don’t want to do
any of the things on it.
So today we took ourselves
to the soaking pool,
and splashed and argued
and steeped and cuddled
and ate cheeseburgers
and came home yawning
enormous satisfied yawns.

Things I did today that scared me:

I put the bug outside.
I merged in the rain.
I used my new phone with the many many buttons.
I called my accountant and we had the numbers talk.
I drove across the slippery bridge over the river wild and deep.
I pressed Pay and signed myself up for a weekend
of magic and horses.

The strange gift of being afraid of
everything
is that you stop waiting to feel brave.
You get things done still quaking, and then
suddenly
you’re not so scared anymore.
I’m launching a new class to talk about this,
and it feels as new and sweet and precious
as a newborn.
If you’d like to join me, I’d be honored.

Chickens

She went to see the chickens.
There used to be four, but one ran away,
and the rooster was obnoxious, so now
they only have two.
Those two venerable hens were plump and brown
and they laid
EGGS.
Real live eggs!
That she brought home!
And we scrambled! and cooked!
and ate!
In our own very own house.
That the chickens made.
In REAL LIFE.
If that doesn’t seem like
an absolute screaming miracle to you,
then I prescribe a strong dose of
four-year-old,
to be taken immediately.

Our last night here

It’s been the longest sleepover ever.
My brother and sister-in-love have been champs.
We did some damage. We smashed:
two drinking glasses,
a lightbulb,
a plate,
their kitties’ equilibrium,
and their utilities bill.
But don’t worry.
Their teeny little crocheted booties
(courtesy of baby sister)
are just fine.
We can’t wait to meet their owner.

Oof.

Some days we are so tired
we can hardly keep our eyelids up
through the final story.
Even when it is about frogs and monkeys.

Decision Day

A light shone down from the heavens,
and it sang out, “Aaaaaaaahhhhh~~~!!!”.

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