yes, the ground is damp
the geckos are scrambling
to fight each other for their territory
like two dinosaurs in miniature
the orange of their throats expanding
as they take the posture
that makes up their battle stance
the grass always seems greener
It seems the same as we grow older
with a smile of distant
my mother has alzheimers disease
I am joy.
after it rains
the color shouts
yes, I am alive
the water of life has granted me
another few days
to smell and shine in my glory
we women too
fighting for positioning
like the geckos after the rain
she who is top gecko reigns
for one day or another
until she is defeated
by another one
who will again
be defeated
and so it goes
wild women warriors
staking their claims
to what is left
of the rest of their lives
MY MOTHER
she lays there alone
on her hospital bed
in a nightgown and a diaper
adult size or such
knotted fingers on her hands
covering her eyes
shielding her confusion
from whatever recognition remains
unfamiliarity
masking the lies of her
now diminished memory
keeping her enclosed
with restraints of austerity
and breaking through with fits
of uncalled-for levity
JOY
When you wade into the clear blue water
tossing pieces of French bread
into the sea
causing circles
concentric circles
one within another
within another
within another
beckoning schools of fish
swimming between your legs
encircling and enveloping
such a strange unique feeling
and a smile begins to appear upon your face.
