The journey becomes an adventure when

We stop to notice what comes our way as we go:

The obstacles, the curious things,

The jensisaisquoi that seems

To be dropped in front of us

Like the handkerchief of a fair maiden who needs our help.

Or is it rather a mademmoiselle 

Who by design

Tries to unwind our harshest  or

Most boring fates,

To draw us in to an interesting story we might call life?

A subtle change,

If we can slow down from our petty idea of destiny,

Take off our myopic shades,

And transform ourselves from journeymen into divine adventurers.

-jenn

 Viva le Difference 

I see a young man wearing navy blue shorts,

Kicking a soccer ball all by himself at the sports complex.

He’s setting it up,

Kicking it in!

He makes the goal!

His odds of winning are good.

He may even make the team.

It seems possible,

Or maybe he could represent his home country 

In the Olympics or World Cup someday.

He now sees me on my bike.

Does he surmise the possibility that I might ride

In the Tour de France someday?

Fat chance!

Just another old nameless lady

Pedaling slowly along the hiking trail 

On a golden summer afternoon.

-jenn

 I can look for the good in rabbits and squirrels.

I can see the best in dogs and cats,

And even give the benefit of the doubt to bats,

But human beings?

It used to be that boys and girls were innocent and sweet,

But now, we humans, at an early age,

Take on such structured attitudes.

We have decided what is wrong and what is right,

And we have the nerve to judge

And then tell others what to do,

And label them as damn fools

If they don’t do what we think that they should.

Our first instinct with each other is not to look for the good,

But to criticize,

See the worst in the people we meet,

Size up our parents, and our friends, 

Even our children.

And this hard behavior boomerangs,

And so then, we can’t resist being hard on ourselves.

We’re tortured souls.

God, help.

God help us all.

-jenn

 Petals

Petals are falling on me

From up above

Dead flowers from the grave 

Of someone that I used to love

A glass vase atop a double oven

Where I shoved the fresh arrangement 

So the cat couldn’t play with it

And knock it over on the table where it sat 

Fearing that it might shatter the entire scene 

And now a month of Sundays has passed by

The flowers are dry

Occasionally now a petal will fall

I go into a stall in mid-flight of my morning routine

It’s like I’ve never seen this before 

A dried up petal hits my floor

Or lands on my iPad while YouTube is playing my favorite tune

How did I get to this place so soon in life

What will bring me out of this heady swoon I feel at times

That my life is careening out of the air mid-stall

Like these dead petals that fall around me

-jenn

 Shelter In Place, yes.. Happily

The frog jogs in place in the green pond,

Treading water and remaining in the still center 

Of the trending current.

The light plays off the gentle ripples,

Shining bright designs upon its eyes.

Even with my eyes closed, I see the patterns, too,

Peaceful forms of dignity,

The energetic modesty

Of sunlight on the water.

-jenn

 Loon

The beautiful music made me cry,

And the bystanders in the crowd

Assumed that I was a loon,

But who could ever be sane enough 

To hear the sounds of stars and moons

And under-appreciate the delicate ways

The harmonies play out continuously together. 

One star shines.

It’s in the back,

But something in its melody appeals to me from afar.

How I truly do,

I truly wonder what you are,

And what you’re all about.

And I wonder if when you see these tears,

You’ll see that it is you I’m crying for,

The sweet relief of grief released

By the beautiful music you bring,

Sweetly singing through the spheres.

-jenn

 Clouds

When clouds are close,

And you feel that you could reach 

And take their faces in your hands,

And pinch their cheeks like the children so dear,

A niece, a nephew.

And you can almost hear the sighs,

The laughs, see the smile in the sky

Of loved ones who’ve gone on before you,

Fathers, mothers, sisters, brothers,

Their arms reaching down to hold you

In one more loving, kind embrace.

Always a reach,

To understand in the land of the living,

Always the nebulous, the misconstrued

Attempts to say how much someone means to you,

And just so, as with the clouds,

In betweenst the light, the whites, the grays,

The sunny days,

There is the mystical blue,

Soaking up every unsaid word,

Love unheard, and raining it down

In trueblue beauty all around us.

-jenn