Saturday, February 20, 2016

How To Get Rich

(according to my eight-year-old son)

First, manual labor.

Then, buy lots and lots
of football cards

until you get The One
you can sell
for lots of money.

And then, he says, buy more.

He looks over at two
nine-year-old boys walking
toward school
and says, sagaciously,

they don't care about manual labor.

I've heard them talking
when I've been walking home.
All they talk about is video games.

I pull up
to his drop-off.

Mom, what's manual labor?

Physical work, I say,
like building a house.

He nods, gets out for school.

How To Get Rich, For Parents:

First, drive your 8-year-old to school.

And then,
laugh the whole way home.

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner

football cards on my son's dresser
photo © 2016 Jennifer Wagner
manual labor performed to purchase cards: brushed dog, set table, took out trash
manual labor in order to purchase more: clean room

Sunday, February 14, 2016

(In the) Mood

so much depends

the spill of water
warm in the basin

the tumble-soft
tones of Coltrane
from another room

the smooth glide
of your hand
upon my hip

so much depends,

on the flip
of my hair

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner

Written for Fireblossom Friday--taking the opening lines of William Carlos Williams' poem The Red Wheelbarrow (“so much depends upon”) and crafting our own poem.

Late and linking to Poetry Pantry, too.

Happy Valentine's Day!

Monday, February 8, 2016

Weather Eye

When you left
I swore off hunting

for reasons I wasn't
good enough.

Now, here I am,
pike and pole,

keeping a
weather eye

in case you come back
to remind me.

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner

Thursday, February 4, 2016

Wing and Wind

Mama chestnut-backed chickadee
flew in our 70's window
and landed on our
scarlet, gold and green rug.

After a few moments
she sputter-flew up to the windowsill,
as I held my breath, hoping
she could see her escape.

At last, I urged, Go, little girl---

and she lit out,
quick as wing and wind could carry,
while I
peered at the question of sky,

as I do now,
heart throbbing,
wings trembling,
for wherever the wind might take me.

© 2016 Jennifer Wagner