A woman's orchestra

A woman's orchestra

Babies do not have to come
from your womb
in order to be sung to

Pi day

The old math teacher in me, couldn't resist.

A song for the South China Sea

Art by Sandra Moreano and Words by Courtney Hanes

We now sing
of a love that binds
an altered course
sinking the hate
on an anchor of pain
through mist
until they meet again

The greatest love story

The greatest love story
is like
fresh purple grapes
on a February day
dripping with taste
  sometimes in hast
(that's how you learn).

Sleeping while the moon is full

Sleeping while the moon is full

the man at the counter says I look like his niece Alexandra

who doesn’t take no for an answer either

and looks at him with the same crinkled, confused face. 

she thinks it is impossibly foolish to 

attempt sleeping while the moon is full

and says we are not meant to lie down    easily when the night sky is so bright

because 

that is when we should hit the road and drive all night

I smile

he smells like coffee and cinnamon rolls

his eyes are fierce with regret and mistakes,

and I wonder if he realizes what his own face looks like

I glamorize

I glamorize the Alaskan Frontier, 

but wonder if I’d ever have the guts 

to kill and prepare the animals  I eat every single day 

A nod to Shel Silverstein

It is

It is a heart-warming experience

to borrow a book from a man 

who loves his mother

and listen to a sweet six year old 

read about a tree that lives

to give

and gives to live. 

It leaves one feeling 

lucky for the shepherd

who served his time,

found a boat,

and sailed back to build a home

with wood 

from a tree he carved himself. 

We are the tree that 

gives to live,

and lives to give. 

So be it, so be it. 

Stuck under the normal curve

Some are better prepared

some are better prepared

to take

the news that rattles and

spooks without warning

with no time to duck, cover, or

hold on for dear life.

some are better prepared

to let

it wash over their bodies and

face. clean. like a fresh start.

or a new flower, growing alongside

a field of beat down weeds.

some are better prepared

to release

the nastiness and stench of a thing

that they did not ask for, 

and are forever questioning.

some are better prepared

to close their eyes to betrayal

that knocked on the door and let itself in

with a secret key. secrets love company.

some are better prepared

indeed.

Poem by Courtney Hanes are by Sandra Moreano