where i’m from

My friend Ra posted a poem yesterday,
and with it she posted its template.

Years removed from
having written much any poetry,
I decided to fill in
these blanks.

Ra, me, and my husband, last June & an eternity ago

— where i’m from —

I am from sticky notes;
from black licorice & bare feet.
I am from melancholy & hope.

I am from Oregon dirt; I eschewed schews.
I favored grit between my toes.

I am from solid people of strange faith,
potluck casserole & enchilada pie.
I am from always waiting for
the man who’d never
seldom show.

I’m from steadfast,
and staying (when it’s right)
even when it’s scary.

Even alone,
I am from connections so deep
I’m never alone;
from the Oregon dirt–
me, but more: us.

This new-shaped today

On Saturday,
I ordered something special
for my younger son’s mid-week birthday.

(Since he can’t be with his friends
this year,
this was one way to
make the day

The special package
was scheduled to reach us

Yesterday came;
the package didn’t;
seems it hasn’t

My sons,
threw around the word “liars.”

I acknowledged their disappointment,
but explained it’s
not really lying.

A month ago,
the shape of
yesterday tended
to give us a good idea
how tomorrow
would be shaped.

We could reasonably say,
“Yesterday, and for thousands
of yesterdays before,
we knew it would take
two days to pull an item,
package it, send it,
and have it reach
its recipient.”

yesterday’s estimates
will often no longer work.
But we haven’t lived long enough
in this new-shaped today
to yet accurately estimate
how long it will actually
take to do this or that,
in this world.

“They’ll learn.
We’ll learn.

“So, are they lying?
I don’t think so.
They just haven’t had
enough time yet to
learn the ropes in
this new-shaped today.

“And, besides:
We’ll still have
cupcakes, and ice