I insist it’s cold
he doesn’t really listen
tromp on crusted snow
backwards, you stand looking at nothing, avoiding my face. but you will turn soon, and you will smile.
run and laugh. it is freezing, but you have
boots on and even though
the water seeps in, slowly, you can giggle
as the ice forms.
I’m at the top of Ensign Peak. I have no idea who these people are. Taken in August 2015.
feet in water
girl in snow
this is nap time:
she wiggles and cries and turns over
until she’s pressed against the edges of the crib
her thumb in her mouth
and then, Peace
I let her sleep
but I watch, too
I forget, I hide
But from out of the corners
Life slips back to me
but he’s still smiling.
there are more important things
than trying to look perfect.
there are times she tosses and turns and flinches
making small, adorable noises
but then she is still, only breathing
wrapped in the warmth of sleep.
in summer grass, she looks at me
unsure of what to think of this world
but when she understands
the cool shade and the bright sun
she’ll love it.
she is mine: and I want to catch
forehead wrinkles, smiles, wiggles, sounds
I want to remember every moment
and hold it, and keep it
breathing in her milk-baby lotion smell
and loving her forever.
unwilling, squinting her eyes in the dim light
sleep always so close, drifting
the world fuzzy and unknown
her mother: soft and inviting
welcome to life
this is how he sees himself, and how he wishes others would see him
hunting is not a waste of time, but a life, a place where he can be
powerful and fierce and ready to take on the world.
this is where he feels at home with himself
because there are no expectations and responsibilities
only the chase to the kill
(photo by Dillon)
It seems a little vain:
Plastering myself up there.
Why would anyone care?
But no one else,
can take a self-portrait
and make it look just the same.
(Minus my identical twin.)
look at you in your dorm room
emptiness gradually turning into piles of you
since when did you have orange sheets?
since when did you grow-up,
old enough to say goodbye to Mom?
are you playing the guitar to make things familiar?
don’t worry. you’ll get used to it.
(Photo credit: Clarissa Walker)
She is a few days old and her eyes don’t want to open.
Tired, the light is too bright, they stay closed.
But her mouth: tiny and used to sucking,
It opens up to the sky in such a big yawn for such a small thing.
I want to capture her
in a moment of stillness,
her life written on her face.
She is staring out into her front yard
through glass doors
the light spilling onto her skin.
I learn from her,
work with her,
talk with her,
and I wish I could return
again and again and again,
trying to learn her
there are debates over whether he has red hair or not
and debates over who gets to hold him, but only for about five minutes, or after he starts to cry.
he doesn’t care much about what is going on around him
just in wonder of the world.
I’m glad you are
smiling, and that our lives are going in the same direction as we
walk forward, hand in hand, talking slowly about things that were and things that are to come,
contemplating a future and realizing that the greatest
happiness can be found in the moment, because we are living dreams.
I’m glad you look at me and
listen as my words leave me. I’m glad you
speak the things of your heart.
Here is your new head shot.
Plaster it on Facebook.
You look older–why?
Somehow you are no longer
on the edge of teenager,
but growing firmly into
a young woman.
the youthful glow is still there,
but the child is gone.
“How do I compare to professional photographers?”
“You’re not as demanding. When I say I want to go home, we go home.”
There are many forced smiles
They are easy to come by.
But the real smiles,
the smiles that mean something:
those can be difficult.
big bad wolf
blow my house
down while the
fog is still
thick– the house will fall,
but I won’t care because
dancing in the
a photo taken by my husband,
who likes me to smile. but I didn’t.
my sister took this–
of her son.
she could capture her own
infant better than I could.