As part of National Poetry Writing Month, I will be writing 30 poems in 30 days. I will try to write one each day, but if I miss a day or two, I will catch up on later days. Sometimes I will be following prompts; while other days will come from my own ideas.

Here's another poem, written while we were out this morning. Only three more to go!

Running Errands with My Toddler in Late April

Showers of pink blooms flutter
on this astounding bright day
of lime greens and pale pinks.
A fuchsia bush, ablaze. "It's
a stop-go sign," you say, because
we stop and then we
go. And in a way, you are right.

A teen who should know
better is wearing tangerine
and white stripes with
white plaid shorts. How
time slips away. My fingernails
have grown too long,
again. You play with the plastic
bird you've had since infancy.
"Tweet-tweet," you say. "I'm up
in a tree." Like your bird,

time flies. And that is fine,
as we move forward, in
or out of trees, stopping
and going. A woman

in a bright-blue sari
guides her grandson slowly
down pink-petaled sidewalks.
You care more about
loaders and excavators. We see
the same world differently.

A young bleached blonde pushes
her white-haired baby across
busy lanes. She waves at me,
as if I could do anything
but stop. Time rolls on, and I still
love you, the only unmoving
constant in our shifting days.


- April 30, 2013

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