An invitation to a (blank) party arrives.
I’m desperate for company.
So I accept.
Conversation swirls around kids, husbands and housework.
I am bribed with food.
The (blank) is shiny and new.
I am compelled.
I buy.
I leave with a full heart and an empty wallet.
A few weeks later,
I send out my own invitations for a (blank) party.
They come because they are lonely.
I serve food.
We chat.
They buy.
We are full.
I am a mighty oak.
My roots ground me.
My branches reach for the heavens.
They lift my children so they may float away on the breeze.
My rough, craggy bark encases wisdom and strength.
I am a mother.
◊
This poem was inspired by my neighbor’s oak tree (pictured above). It must be very old and I feel lucky to have it as my view. I just hope I look as good when I’m that old.
It’s less car – more archeological dig.
If you looked closely, I’m sure you’d find an actual pig.
But it has seating for six or more,
And we can all pile in through the magical sliding door.
Once inside our living room on wheels,
We nestle in among the books, toys, and discarded banana peels.
We pop in a movie or listen to some tunes
And off we go, zoom zoom ZOOM!
