St. Christopher

Poetry

There is a nick on your chin
From when you shaved your winter beard.
The blood congealed into a scab
That will heal into a scar.
Your smooth skin makes me
Imagine  you as a boy
on the playground
And I wonder
What  you were like then.
I think of myself as a shy little girl
Sitting on the soft
Green grass. Remembering the time I
Searched all day for my great grandmother’s
Gold St. Christopher’s locket.
The one I wore to my communion.
I lost it on the playground at school and
Desperately tried to find it in the grass.
I found it,
Against all odds,
Among the thousands of blades of grass.
I ran home
to show my mom,
Thanking God.

Note: A poem I wrote two years ago. I think two years is the amount of time I need to let my writing percolate and I feel ok showing it to the world.  

On top of Mt. Tabor

Life
That-a-way

This statue is on the summit of Mt. Tabor.

Fun day yesterday! We were craving food from our favorite Food Carts in Portland so we made the drive to the big city. I enjoyed something different, a turkey, cranberry, & arugula crepe. It was delicious but not as good as my favorite, Smoked Salmon and arugula. Afterward we took a walk to the top of Mt. Tabor where we found the statue, pictured above. When we  walked back down we found a playground with fantastic old-school playground equipment. One of them was a merry-go-round. So the mister and I took a spin. It was fun.