One more poem to end the year

What I believe 

I believe in drinking whiskey in a sunset 

or the ginger fur of a cat splayed out 

in a golden slice of afternoon. 

I believe in the constancy and comfort 

of warm yeast and apples. While 

a potted hibiscus in a backyard in Illinois 

is an act of rebellion, I believe. 

I believe there should be as many words for love 

as there are for clouds or colors. 

When you see a ghost, 

it’s best to call it by name, I believe. 

And while there is no cure for heartache, 

I believe the smallest surprises, 

like a group of ladybugs being called a loveliness, 

are a balm. 

I believe in rubber boots and garden gloves 

and chainsaws to tear down the overgrowth 

blocking my view. I believe 

the dead can feed the living 

in shredded bark and last year’s leaves 

or in what was penned by poets and prophets 

and people who loved trees. 

I believe in getting some air and taking a lap 

or another loop around the block. 

I believe in downward-facing dog. 

I believe most bad moods can be cured 

in a hammock, with a clear view of the sky. 

As difficult as it can be, I believe in rest.

© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni

Tonight I walk with Mary Oliver

Tonight I walk with Mary Oliver 

“Attention,” she says, “is the beginning of devotion.” 

At home I slice the last ripe tomato 

Lifting each bite dressed in salt and olive oil 

to the tick of the wall clock 

3 minutes slow in the kitchen 

Like it was an 80 degree day 

Like I was barefoot 

kneeling in my crumbling garden box 

harvesting from plant to mouth 

Like a child 

A trail of juice on the counter 

Each finger licked 

Amen 

© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni

ode to Friday

a paintbrush would tell a better story

of the leaves darkened into crisp silhouettes against the periwinkle sky

of the waxing September moon like a ghost at 7 pm

of the pinpricks of warm yellow light popping on in windows across the street 

but the picture of a Friday evening in early autumn on the back patio

dinner cleaned up, computer closed, child biking one last loop around the neighborhood

while the crickets and katydids blanket us in a bedspring chorus

can only be painted in a poem

© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni

roses for Jody

He visits her grave
every couple weeks
and texts me photos
of the roses he leaves
in her memory.

I prefer roses in my kitchen
where I can remember her
20 times a day.

Political circus

I've written my fair share of verse about the current administration, but angry poetry isn't particularly interesting. A recent piece I read in The New Yorker about Kanye West was stranger than fiction and inspired this short poem. If you read the piece, you'll see how the poem wrote itself. My favorite kind.

West/Tidball 2024

Met his running mate
In an airport lounge
Sized her up as an online prophet
Great with kids
In touch with the divine

The religious imagination
Reads the leaves
Gives language to drought, flood and fire
Stops making God mad

Starting a religion is easier than
Running for President
Kanye shoots the moon

© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni

"I'm tired of working" poems

It's brand planning season and some days I can't remember if I work from home or live at work, which makes it a real challenge to find the time and space to get any poems onto paper.

My sister and I made it to 100 daily poems with nearly no misses. We are continuing our pledge to keep up the poetry writing, but not quite as disciplined. My poems are shorter these days, and clearly influenced by sheer exhaustion and my love for the sun. 

Poem 101

They say, don't look at the sun
You'll go blind
But there are mornings
Where turning my face up, eyes open
To that dangerous, unearthly light
Is the only way I can see

Poem 103

I cannot sleep
but only dream, of rest
and lighter days

Poem 108

I leave my desk to sit in the sun.
No one knows
I am gone.
They email and chat
by flickering screens
waiting for solutions
to impossible problems
while I close my eyes and try
not to think
of anything
at all.

© Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni

Putting a child to bed

I prop the book open on my chest
and begin to read
His foot presses against my leg
soft and familiar
as a stone worn smooth by the sea
I rub his back and flutter my lashes to his
-I love you, mom
He whispers
Tears catch in my throat
I swallow them down and flip off the light
There is something every moment
to move us intensely
If we felt it all, we’d never survive


© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni

Remember this day

My sister and I have reached 100 poems. Writing them has become such an essential part of my day, like a cup of tea in the morning or brushing my teeth at night, I can't imagine stopping. This is one of my favorites that I wrote last month. It was inspired by the poem "Be a weed" from Late Migrations by Margaret Renkl.


Remember this day

When the news feels like a blanket twisted around your head
and you are starting to panic
and lose hope that there’s a way out
to a world where everyone can breathe
Remember this day
with the kissing breeze a feather weight
tousling each bush of leaves
under the cap of morning
with the June sun so brilliant and crisp
now a soft yolk slipping
off the plate of late afternoon
with the backyard tree stretching its arms
to dance with you
across the strobed ballroom of evening
Remember this day
Remember to be
the breeze, the sun, the tree


© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni

Ball don't lie

Pick up games on the beat-up concrete driveway
One all wiry peach-fuzz limbs
Banking his shots, to our hoots and shouts
often and unexpected
The other, lithe and newly muscled,
takes his jump shots from the street or
back to the bucket, Hail Mary-ing
for fewer points, but far more thrill
Their mother lays up like a Queen,
once a practiced athlete sidelined by desk jobs,
domestication and raising these children
who now stand reverent in the fading June sunshine
following her last shot, a sweet swish
to win the game


© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni
photo cred: Liam Bordoni

friday haiku

soft white satin moth

just dust with wings and belly

pressing toward the light

a beautiful day on earth

The earth belongs to everyone
and no one
The dune, the lake, the forest
It doesn’t know
Your race, your faith, your gender
Your bank balance or doctor visits
Who you love or lost
It just knows you need healing
You are human after all
You belong to everyone
and no one
Come, says the earth
Come


© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni

The lilac show

The lilacs wave to me
as I wash last night’s dirty pans.

I wait for this show to begin every year. Typically,
I barely catch the opening number and the curtain falls
as I’m rushing off to catch the train,
gulping down the scented air on my way to the car.

This year I’m home for the entire act. Still,
I mourn the heady perfumed blossoms
as soon as they swell. I’m standing at the sink
every early morning, lunch, clean up
to take them in, but
they are already on their way out.

For 18 years,
this private, little wave hello
has always been
goodbye.


© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni

Walking at twilight

Walking at twilight
under the heavy-laden
branches of late-Spring
Redbud and crabapple
and the Yoshino flowering
cherry tree
I smell from half a block away
and stand nose to lowest
blooming limb
Breathing in and in
Eyes closed
I should be barely a shadow
cloaked in the encroaching
darkness
But delight seeps out every pore
and for this moment
I am lit


© Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni

Last days of high school, 2020

Make an appointment to enter the building
A maximum of 20 students allowed at once
to retrieve personal items
No parents or guests permitted
Enter Door 40 at your time
Wear a face covering
Sanitize your hands upon entry
Hallway locker first, PE locker last 
Maintain at a safe social distance
at least 6 feet from all other individuals
No more than 20 minutes
Exit the building at Door 39
immediately upon retrieving materials
Sanitize hands prior to leaving

If you are a Senior
pull your vehicle up to Door 1
Display a white paper with your name on it
Your cap and gown
diploma cover
medallion
senior t-shirt and
other graduation-related materials
will be placed in your trunk
to minimize contact

+++

Every word here was in a long perfunctory email from the high school principal this week. I cried when I read it. What kind of world has this become where safety has become such a priority that we have to address each other (particularly our children!) without any empathy or emotion? Not one bit of warmth or acknowledgment that this is just plain weird and heartbreaking, especially for the seniors. My cousin Jon is the principal at Vernon Hills High School and made this creative and touching video for his seniors. Kudos, Jon, for being an administrator with a big heart.

For all the high school seniors missing the rite of passage this Spring should hold — the celebrations, excitement and privileges of being top dog — my heart goes out to you.

best-ever banana bread

Since we've been sent into house arrest we seem to end each week or two with over-ripe bananas. And since I have adapted a recipe online to be healthier, which I swear my children don't know I do, I figured I should document how I make this (if only for myself) so as not to forget our version of the best banana bread ever.

Everyone online is proffering up their version of the best banana bread. Especially now that everyone in quarantine is into making banana bread. Perhaps it's because we're all home to see the bananas turn to that perfect leopard-like state. The uneaten stragglers in the bunch aren't turning black and fruit fly-infested and headed for the bin. Or maybe baking in general is just on the rise as we sit at home and stare at the oven wondering what to make next.

In any case, after months of making banana bread (yes, way before we all became bread bakers), I can officially say that this is our best-ever banana bread—healthier, moister, more flexible and more banana-ier than the competition.

Best-ever banana bread
with thanks to Sally's Baking Addiction for the base recipe

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Stir together in a large bowl:
2 cups flour (I use 1 cup unbleached all-purpose, 1/2 cup whole wheat and 1/2 cup almond meal. Totally flexible here - sub gluten-free flours, more whole wheat, whatever)
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1/2 to 1 teaspoon cinnamon (could also introduce some other spices here like ginger, nutmeg, cardamon - I would just go for a 1/4 teaspoon extra so you don't overpower the banana)

Warm on the stove in saucepan until melted:
1/2 cup coconut oil (can also use butter or other light tasting oil, which wouldn't need to be melted of course)

Whisk into the oil (off the heat):
3/4 cup maple syrup (I like Grade B for baking, which has a darker, richer flavor - or you can use coconut sugar, honey or, if you must, brown sugar)
2 eggs
1/3 cup plain yogurt, sour cream or buttermilk (I use whole milk plain yogurt - I do not recommend anything non-fat here)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Add wet ingredients to dry ingredients and stir until just mixed. Then stir in:
3 mashed over-ripe bananas
handful of chopped walnuts or pecans (optional)
handful of chocolate chips or pieces (optional) (I really like Hu gems for this - they are quite bittersweet and have no refined sugars)
tablespoon of rum (I have not done this, but I have no doubt that it would be an outstanding addition)

Pour into a greased loaf pan and bake for 60-65 minutes until a skewer poked in the center comes out clean or it just looks done. Cool in the pan for 10 minutes and then pop onto a rack. I advise you to let the loaf cool 1-2 hours before attempting to slice, but I never adhere to this advice. An hour is a long time to smell this deliciousness wafting through the house and not do something about it immediately. The loaf won't stick together for that first slice, but it still tastes great.

friday haiku

spoons in ice cream pints
junk TV, feet on table
stay home day fifty

The earth is happier now

The earth is happier now
I can see it in the sky
Bluest cerulean days
Inkiest, stariest nights

From California to China
fine particulate matter plummets
Wild boar roam Madrid
A peacock struts through Dubai
For the first time from Punjab
the snow peaks of the Himalayas
come into view
And Venetians look clear to the bottom of canals
to see that their houses really are
built on sand


© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni

Artists in isolation

No one visits Monet today.
Sun rising and setting
on gothic cathedrals and vast fields of wheat
without any witness to the heavenly palette
of sherbet-like oranges and pinks.

No one visits Degas today.
Jockeys restless for action while dancers
bronzed and oiled
balance on pointe and peek around curtains
into dark and echoing hallways.

No one visit Magritte today.
A cricket, a pipe and blue sky raining down men
just ordinary objects suspended in time
in a surreal, lonely exhibit of
art imitating life imitating art.


© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni

friday haiku

oh yellow tulip
your dainty mouth yawns wide
to lift downcast hearts

That's the life

A house cat prowls
from room to room
sleeping
eating
playing
pooping
looking for affection
no big plans
no outings on the horizon
just the quest for the perfect indoor spot
to curl up in the sun.

We used to say, man, that’s the life.

Maybe not.


© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni

+++

Our perfect new indoor cat is definitely loving the quarantine life. Hoping to learn some things from her.

This sun-drenched day

If it wasn’t for the dead and dying
and the news of the dead and dying
and the risk of being dead and dying
If it wasn’t for not having a calling
that puts me with the dead and dying
I would bask in the afternoon sun
warming the long walk through quiet neighborhoods
sparkling through just-washed windows
streaming across the book propped on my chest

If you are among the dead and dying
or you love someone who is dead and dying
Please forgive me
Alive here soaking in the sun
getting swept away by a glorious day
that just shouldn’t be

© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni

+++

I really enjoyed Krista Tippett's interview with Ross Gay, author of The Book of Delights (highly recommended), while I walked through the sunny streets today. A good reminder that it isn't selfish or disconnected to experience joy in sad and difficult times. It's human.

The things I say

I wrote this on day 3 of my daily poem challenge. Two weeks later my admonishments are still constant and the same. I quarantined this poem for 14 days and it hasn't changed.


The things I say

Stop touching your face.
Wash your hands.
Walk way around them.
Don't hug grandpa.

The things I say in love these days.

Poem for a sunny day

Despite waking up to a ridiculous blanket of snow yesterday, it's been a pretty lovely Spring. Here's a poem I wrote a few days ago capturing the stunning display in my neighborhood.

Peep show

"Beauty is not caused. It is." —Emily Dickinson

All at once
the earth is strutting its stuff like a floozie.
Forsythia a shrieking canary,
Dogwood draped with white boas
and every facet of emerald
sparkling in the morning sun.

It doesn't matter what we do or
don't do.
The earth is going to go on being magnificent.
So, stop convalescing.
Throw open those windows
and look around.


© 2020 Amy Wolgemuth Bordoni

Stay-at-home school

Today I learned about the life cycle of Eastern brook trout,
the geographic features of Denmark,
and how to write percussion notation for concert band.

Then I explained it all to my son,
with repeated prompts, questions and
gesticulating
while he pointed out a cardinal on the bushes
and the mail truck parked outside.

He'll watch all the videos his teachers post
and click around on real estate sites
like a viable home buyer.
But he'll fling himself on the table top
like a scorned lover, all sighs
and tears,
if asked to add double numbers
or recall the purpose served by a noun.

Today, though, I marveled that he knew
the seas in the Netherlands would be salty,
that a trout is an organism and a group
form a population, and when to rest his drumsticks.

No telling what I'll learn tomorrow.

+ + +

My sister and I have been writing and sharing with each other a poem a day during this strange time of quarantine and social distancing. Today marks day 17. It's the most consistently I've ever written poetry. Dare I say that I'm beginning to even feel like a real poet. Maybe it will lead me to to become a real blogger again as well.

friday haiku

geese still congregate
fall into formation and
blissfully fly on

So many things we can do

What an eerie time. All of us sequestered into our homes because of the coronavirus outbreak, warned about the dangers of coming too close to a neighbor or a stranger, or even a friend or family member outside our homes. Now, in Illinois, we are prohibited from doing so. In other times of disaster, many have clung to the words of Mr. Rogers, "to look for the helpers." Some have even dove in to be a helper, trying to make a difference for individuals or a community that was devastated. Most of us regularly thrive on volunteering or connecting with and helping family and friends in person. But how can we do this now if we can't even get with 6 feet of each other? Here are some ideas to get us off the couch and away from the news feeds and help lift us up from the worry about what's to come:

• Donate to a good cause. If you continue to have a steady income, think about how much less money you are spending these weeks at home. For me, there's no money being spent on commuting, grabbing a take-out lunch or coffee, or just running out to the store. What better way to spend it now than to give it where it's most needed. Liam and I have decided to pick a charity to donate to every day. In some cases, we might save up our daily contribution for a few days to send off a larger donation. Jimmy Fallon: At Home Edition (definitely worth a watch!) offers a charity suggestion every day, which is where we got the idea. Some local ideas we've had include Journeys, PADS, and the Willow Creek Care Center, which is run by my amazing cousin Josie. The Care Center is continuing to provide emergency food to hundreds of Chicago-area families without resources and breakfasts and lunches to local schools to hand out to kids who would otherwise go hungry. Plus, they recently rented out a Red Roof Inn to house the local homeless population, giving beds and showers to this vulnerable population. I don't know about you, but that made me tear up a little. Also, here's a recent article in the Washington Post with a great list of organizations to support during the pandemic. (Note: some of these places also take donations of supplies, like disinfecting wipes, paper products and masks. If you are one of those whose basement is full of extra everything that you're now seeing you'll never use up, consider sharing.)
• Check in on friends, family and neighbors, especially those who are alone, anxious, sick or lonely. Email and text are great, but now is a great time to pick up the phone or FaceTime and let them hear your voice and see your smile. FaceTime is definitely Elliott's new favorite way to communicate. House tours are his specialty. Or, as long as we are still receiving mail, why not write a letter? And if you are in the "still have a job" group, consider slipping in a check or some cash to gift a friend or family member who is living more tenuously in this new reality. Don't know an older or single neighbor's phone or email address? Take a walk and jot down their physical address. Then send them a card to say hello and share yours!
• Make a meal for a widower or single mom and leave it on their doorstep. Or buy some provisions and deliver to someone at risk so they don't have to go out. (Of course, check that the person is okay receiving such a gift and be sure to practice all the right hygiene tactics when you are preparing and delivering!) Or if you're lucky enough to have flowers popping up in your yard soon, consider surprising someone with a porch bouquet.
• Send a thank you to our first responders. If you have kids, get them involved by making drawings to send to the doctors and nurses in your family practice, the ER staff in your local hospital or the EMTs and firefighters at your town's station. Such a great way to show how much you appreciate them putting themselves in harm's way to help those who fall ill.
• Share your books and DVDs. Put up a free little library or take photos of stacks of books in your personal stash that you're willing to share or part with and send to neighbors with kids who love to read. I know a 13-year-old only child who's a reader and running out of books, so I sent her mom photos of a bunch of my books and will drop off on her doorstep the ones she wants. Currently, those book are just gathering dust in my basement. My friend Teresa also had the great idea to stock a box, like a free little library, with free provisions for anyone in the neighborhood who needed them. Maybe a plastic bin or cooler in the front yard filled with basic essentials. I mean, seriously, what are people going to do with all that toilet paper anyway?
• Make art. It's easy to resort to TV, movies and video games, but imagine what could be done with a paint brush, needle and thread, colored pencils and paper, or that old dusty piano. Write a poem, learn to watercolor, try needlepoint, plunk out a tune. If you have the skills, offer a video tutorial to a friend. Find a YouTube video. Just play around. Children's book illustrator Mo Willems is teaching the world to doodle online. If there was ever a time to explore the artist in you and add more beauty to the world, it is now!
• Play a board game, do a puzzle, make music or have a dance party with the whole family. And if you are not sheltering in place with your family, play or dance virtually. It'll be a memory you won't soon forget.
• Hang out. Parents of teens, this one is especially for you. Think about all the time you have now with your kids in the house and nowhere to go. It's finally a chance to get to know your kid. Ask him or her to show you something funny they love to watch on YouTube. Then get out of your judgment seat and let yourself laugh. It's been a long time since I've laughed as hard as I have while watching Vlogs with Liam. We are also making a painting together to hang over the fireplace. As I see it, there's no better chance to connect.
• Look inside. Many of us are still bogged down by work or are cooped up with small children who have endless needs. And some of us are living both realities! But no matter who you are, this time is giving you a lot to think about. What better opportunity to face our prejudices, grudges, apathy and fears that we covered up so well in all our busyness. And make amends.
• Be nice to each other... and yourself. This is an uncertain, worrisome time. We are stuck with the same people 24 hours a day or we are all alone. (My heart aches when I think about kids especially who are in homes with adults who mistreat and abuse them. Many kids found solace in school or other people's homes and now those outlets are gone. Help can still be found here.)
  
  Take care of yourself so you can be the best for others. We are all in this together.

Have another idea (or link to a good story or online resource) for a way to give each other hope and help during this unprecedented time? Share in a comment!