Photo by Susanne Jutzeler, suju-foto on Pexels.com
For Day 1 of the June Open Write, Dr. Sarah J. Donovan of Stillwater, Oklahoma invites us to write poetry using the mentor poet June Jordan’s poetry. You can read Sarah’s full prompt here.
Now This
these nights they are hormonal hot flash hell ~ flapping bedbirds fluffing sheets sleeplessly in all the heat and rumble of the dark
these nightmares they rage in ~ nocturnal carnage at the screaming speed of melatonin on the yellow eyes of a Great Horned Owl in a trembling tree hollow
these scarecrows they lurk now in apocalyptic meadows where as children we found peaceful slumber we called sweet dreams ~ all those sugarplums that once danced in our heads
All six grandchildren are here with two parents, their three labs and the two of us and our three Schnoodles. The house has never been more alive than it is right now (you can actually feel its heartbeat thumping, pulsing with the energy of children). We celebrated Christmas together yesterday. During the weekend time, we have watched our small town’s Christmas Parade, baked and decorated Christmas cookies and pumpkin bread, made peanut butter fudge, cooked a big pancake breakfast, played outside and amassed Georgia red clay dirt stains from wrestling in the grass and playing King of the Hill, made pinecone birdfeeders and watched the birds come to an early Christmas feast, taken a walk with the dogs to look for the elusive “Lellow Bear” that has lived in these woods for many years, napped, visited a family friend at the fire station, opened gifts, played board and card games and dominoes because we gave away the Scrabble board, feasted on Lasagna and garlic bread, and ran inside from the drizzle that stopped our fireside marshmallow roast plans. We’ve taken a tour of the camper and talked about all the plants on the front porch, including the ways to propagate them for our nine year old environmentalist grandson to have snips of offshoots of these plant species (he already has five varieties of succulents and cactuses growing in his room). He has shown us how to make his favorite tea. We’ve taken some moments here and there to sit on the swing of serenity and have a brief time of peace before being discovered by someone needing less peace. We’ve thrown the ball down the hall for the fetching dog hundreds of times and tested stain removers on knees of pants and elbows of jackets and shirts. We’ve K-cupped multiple times a day to keep caffeinated enough to keep pace with the little ones and read books at quiet times.
We’ve found half-eaten marshmallows in the pantry and little pieces of games and random things here and there – – including six grapes, four smushed into the floor. And we’ve showered at the oddest times, just to stagger for hot water so that all ten of us wouldn’t get the shower shivers.
And we’ve tasted sleep.
But we have not indulged in the entire entree of sleep.
Common Threads 