dogtrax

Unexpectedly, swooping down, wings extended; a hawk on the hunt

I thought you should know the first one wasn't the last one — two others arrived afterwards, all born healthy and now settling into adulthood;

the oldest, the one you knew and loved and held and hugged, a maker of documentary films and creative arts;

the middle, the one you knew was coming but could not hold on long enough to see, a weekend club DJ in New York City;

the youngest, the one you never knew but might have loved the most, a hip-hop music producer living in a college room in Boston

I thought you should know we're doing OK

for my Mom, who died at an age younger than I am right now

for #openwrite

Settle in silence, then broken ever after with children's laughter

I feel just like a map - all longitude and lines - The time between us ascending

Inside the grid, you mark me, all attitude and latitude — but here we are, descending

You must think I'm invisible, for I am a man, barely peaking

But I'm waiting on the sunrise for this world to begin speaking

for OpenWrite with https://www.song-lyrics-generator.org.uk/

On an empty field of baseball's brightest diamond, two kids tossed a ball

for Algot

Upon reflection, I wonder if my words got angled, tangled up in emotion and syntax, the facts of what I was saying obscured, for surely, if I had been clear enough, if I had been articulate enough, if I had whispered loud enough, with passion, in a fashion, he might have listened; instead, he just upped and walked away

for OpenWrite

My old classroom was drenched in cold, isolated silence;

Now I'm bathed in songs of joy rising from the playground

a Naani poem for #openwrite

Looks like scattered bones; black stems and tangled vines that pumpkins leave behind

like that part in the music where it still sounds like snow used to

— from 'That Part In The Music' by Carl Phillips

slipping dripping rhythms of the air, falling, in places where our ears barely hear, our thoughts disappear, for only a moment before her voice comes calling us back

Original poem: https://poets.org/poem/part-music?mc_cid=a96c9b334c&mc_eid=ed9c8bae96

Driftwood, bobbling on constant ocean currents; high tide brings it home