Transformer

The rain beats the roof
announcing another wet day.
What's new?
I sit lotus in the big chair
making my lists
when my growing boy
in soft plaid pajamas
tiptoes out, eyes half-closed,
and folds himself
like an origami baby into my lap.
How is it possible?
Standing, I can rest my chin on his mop of
curly brown hair.
While I ponder the engineering marvel
of the human body to fold, transformer-like,
into the toddler he once was (a minute ago?!),
he rests his soft cheek against mine,
a gangly arm around my neck.
This moment ("you're soaking in it!")
is broken when he pulls back,
gazing up at me with his huge brown eyes
and croaks in his sleepy voice,
"You smell like tuna."

2:42 a.m.: Bosco's Benediction

Laying, eyes closed
trying to focus my mind's eye on any random happy thought;
trying to figure out
how to pull the train of midlife with it's heavy cargo,
trying to understand the nature of the beast of life,
and coming up empty.
Sighing. Sleep is not simple.

My Saviour hops up on the bed.
Finding the sweet spot,
his body nestled above my right shoulder
and the pillow,
his nose nuzzling my neck,
he purrs his benediction:
"sleep, sleep, sleep,
you are loved
this is what matters
because you worry about everyone else
I will take care of you"
When my breathing slows, and calms
his purring quiets and he himself heaves a last
contented sigh.
His paw reaches across my chest and comes to
rest on my heart.
I am loved.
This is what matters.

from one day to the next, or a few questions

do you suppose
that the falling leaves
fight the inevitable
as much as we do?

and should I feel
ashamed of how much
I appreciate their beauty
as they flutter to their end?

I wonder if anyone
will appreciate
"her delicate grace"
when I meet my demise?

Spring Fashion Haiku

You wear yellow well
small, bold friend
Not everyone can.

Botanical Suicide

Tonight,
a yellow leaf,
not satisfied with merely "falling"
threw itself under
my moving car,
making sure
to get the job done
properly.

Goodbye
Cruel World.