childhood memories rewarmed

boxed and taped, sent off

to loved relatives leaves me

warm with memories

relate by hand

something warm about putting

pencil to paper as though giving

of self to communicate unfettered

by the other’s immediate response

sun-chosen

haiku

pale aqua-gray dawn

blossoms into sunshine warmth

sun-chosen parade

sunshine after gray rain

sunshine this morning after gray

days of sudden, intense showers

how dependent we humans are

on that sparkle of warmth and light

for inner joy to give us hope

material things

Material Things

            Warm and soft, caressing my shoulders. Mom was wrapping the fluffy beach towel around my shaking, four-year-old frame. I’d again stayed playing in Lake Erie’s chill water until my skin was wrinkled, and then, knowing better, sat in the shade of the elm inventing adventures for the twig men I’d found among the rocks of Kelley Island’s sandless shore.

            “You should have come in long ago,” Mom scolded with a smile.

            “I know, Mom.” I did know. I’d even thought about it when my teeth started to chatter, but the stories those bits of wood were drawing from me were too fascinating to be interrupted by discomfort I barely felt until the trembling and shaking made me run to the cottage. I knew I’d be greeted by terrycloth baked in sunshine on the clothesline strung from the back porch to the corner of the outhouse.

            My shoulders snuggled in fluffed warmth, the rest of me could drip until all of me, too, was baked in sunlight, recovery, acceptance, security. The texture of that towel told me I was loved.   

in memory of Virginia Heald

In memory of Virginia Heald

Haiku

gentle soul smiles welcome

bending to help without a word

but encouragement

                                    mjNordgren  2/16/2024 N

gray haze

gray haze between the hills

spread out and lingering

as though reluctant to rise

until touched by dawn’s warmth

whitened

haiku

sip hot chocolate

gaze at the glaze of white cover

first snow of winter

kitchen on Give Thanks morning

the oven is on low

sweet potatoes, yellow and orange

baking in brown sugar butter

aroma just emerging into the kitchen

anticipating Thanksgiving

smell of the warmth of joy

warm day finally

a warm day, finally

even my light sweater shed

as we walked by the little shops

in old town McMinnville

delighting that spring gives

promise that hard winter

is at last letting go

person to person

sweet laughter, throaty chuckle, lingering smile

nothing tells more of human warmth

we have drunk full

we have drunk full, my love
swelled with the rynthm of incoming waves pounding earthly shore
connecting anemone, zebra,
and human

we have felt the tumult
of birthing waves roiled by breezes, currents, tides
our peace landed in stars

we have known
hovering, intense sky
algid, bleak, raw cold
embrittled bare twigs scratching
at ice-laced windows when frost
has cemented each breath of life
and each inhalation burned

you reached out
reminding me that love
like life
is gift watched over by angels

my love, we have drunk the wind

love in abundance

ah, the love in abundance

in this family

generation upon generation giving in support

through tough times

traveling inconvenient miles in difficult conditions

to be there when needed

to see the hurting re-created in warmth

and laughter