Scared Space

Scared Space

I write
to open space
large enough for silence.
I listen, become present to
myself.

In The Middle of the Field

The Middle of the Field

I loved Friday nights and football games, played
in cold or rain. Still we twirled and strutted to
their cheers, feet stomping metal bleachers,
hands cupping steam, coco wafting, arms wrapping
round this week’s special friend, as they watched us

stretched out, a long line fronting clarinets,
and flutes, and horns, all stepping to the drums
sounding deep the beat, reverberations,
ourselves believing we were a glorious sight
on Friday nights under lights, still so unaware

today

over the river
a shimmering dance
....thurnderous applause