I buy Snowshoes, in my dream,

now a Minneapolis snow woman!- 

crossing Lake Harriet as if on skis,

stepping on a sleeping mountain 

of snow and ice. 

But the ice groans, quakes

and breaks and I fall into the water,

waking to remember 

this winter is green.

Old Wood

whispers -

  she reaches as many trees as she can,

  leaf collage over foot, 

  yin and yang canopy sprinkling

  dew and dawn down.

Blending in hushed soprano,

farther every day,

more herself than she has ever been.

 It is one of those alone mornings, 

left in a house with a sweet dog and salty cat

left with a kitchen, bright sky streaming in,

left with a list of beautiful tasks

(I have tasks to do!)

left with a roof and warm wooden floors

left with a sunroom where water now freezes.

It is one of those alone mornings,

I turned off the radio

to confront a space of conversations.

Why did I say that?  Why didn’t I say this?

What did he mean by that or she by this?

What should I do first? Why is it daunting to stand

with no one to hold my hands and pull?

Why me? - when the world needs us all to be present?

It is one of those alone mornings.

Self doubt sitting at my table -

Now that I have acknowledged you,

I’ll walk you to the door.