Racing the Warm Rain

Workday is almost done,
Just the final touches on the stairway cleaning
last weeds to collect and mulch.

Raindrops fall big and warm on my bare shoulders,
The garden watering can be crossed off the list.

The work is done for now,
The painting and cleaning, hanging laundry, fixing floor trim.

Summer rain is like a gift,
Coming to open the dirt clods parched,
in a dry spring.

Last week it was the children - my attempts at
teaching them mindfulness with the yoga I know better.
The week began in rain, and we did our poses inside.
By the last day it was hot, and so we walked
the peace path to do
poses at the stations.
Walking toward the Rosa Parks quote, I ask..
"Does anyone know who Rosa Parks was?"
A little girl answers, "I do!
She made the first flag!"

We stand at the station for Rosa, and I explain:
"Rosa sat in her seat, she disobeyed a bad law. "
One can say these kinds of things at the
Quaker Peace Village
Thank god, and God and Goddess

We offered our chair pose to Rosa,
the little kids and me.
The sun beat down upon the path,
we walked with our hearts held high back
to the church-
stopping briefly under the big cypress cedar's shade
to practice the splits.

What We Came From

We are driving the old roads
Where we used to live at the beach,
my son eating his special taco from the
favorite Stand, at stop lights while driving.

My kid, who hung out in summers with me
in ancient time now
by the river at his Uncle's house.
Three years old, and I can still see him
playing in the sticks and mud at
creekside.
I have strawberries in the back seat.
He reaches back to eat one
periodically as we travel the coast highway we know so well.

I ask if he wants me
to wash one, the berries came straight from a field.
He says , "Dirt is good for you."
and then, all I see is his little face
5 months old
covered in dirt when he crawled off
the blanket next to our cabin
where he was born one night
in the woods.