past journeys

fog shrouds sharp edges
creeps over corn fields
hides the road
white lines
world wiped out

fog betrays
yesterday's images today's truth
lingering melody

voice in the back seat
not really there
disappointment etched in the window

a waking dream

@bonnie pignatiello leer

scrape off the dirt

pulled from dirt
onions
from the last trace
of my garden

mud covered
cold and unsightly
but fresh pungent smell
as if the sun still
governed day

I held the onion
tried to scrape off dirt
then the first slimy layer
uncover beauty
underneath

knife in other hand
to slice off roots
that had grown long
burrowed deep
into sun warmed soil
and final remains
of the stem that basked in sun
all summer

dirt gets stuck
under my finger nails
as I peel away layers
find snow white perfection

@bonnie pignatiello leer

Eternally Yours

Check out my little book of poetry. It's about being a mom, dealing with life and living in a community where there's more farms than any building higher than two stories.

Eternally Yours

Parrots - Brookfield Zoo

Just got word that a picture I took last summer at Brookfield Zoo might be selected for a Schmapp guide to Chicago. (click for a full view of the photo.)



Not sure whether the photo will actually be selected. But it's nice to be considered. [update: my photo was selected for the guide. Go download Schmapp Chicago and look for the parrots from Brookfield Zoo. BPL]

Sermon

he speaks to you through
your restless heart

my son crawls into
my lap
our foreheads touch
grin on his face

he calls you to take risks
try something new
step out
face the world

my son drags his toy car
through my hair
across my chest

there will be a moment
you will know
the right thing
to do

hallelujah notes start
my son hums with me
while i sing

he will call you
you only have to open
your heart
listen

my son grabs at my face
he laughs
i quietly try to dodge him
he smiles
kisses my cheek
“i love you, mommy.”
i love you too.

amen

@bonnie pignatiello leer
(Published in Juice 2007)

January

wine
red in glass
tilted towards my lips
silk
edged with small bubbles
passes over my tongue
bites slightly
down my throat

one more drink
and then another
bite
disappears
glass empties
wine warm
in my stomach

another glass
one more
bottle disappears
no one notices
but me

soon
i also disappear
descend into wine
red with passion
empty bottle
empty glass
and i am
invisible

@bonnie pignatiello leer
(Published in Juice 2007)

friends

she flies out of the door
runs through the grass
kicking up crackling leaves
laughing
smiling at the sun
straight to the back yard fence
where is the little boy
that lives there?

she stares over the fence
and waits
he doesn’t see her
standing there
he isn’t looking through his window
isn’t waiting for her

she sighs
looks down
lower lip pushed out
he isn’t coming
she turns around
and slowly wanders
back to the house

@bonnie pignatiello leer
(Published in Juice 2007)

Green Tracks

he pondered his train set
wooden tracks
angry
“i want green tracks!”
but wooden tracks are better
i don’t know where to buy
green tracks
green plastic tracks

drive in rain
one toy store
then another
my son quiet and anxious
in the little boy aisle
i see wooden tracks
grey tracks
no green tracks

we finally buy
grey tracks
one step closer
to green

i help him snap tracks
together
show him new plastic
train cars
uncertain
he plays with it for awhile

bored
he goes back to play with
the wooden tracks
travels our living room
one track at a time
i put the new train
new plastic grey tracks
in a box
in the closet

@Bonnie Pignatiello Leer
(Published in The Wilderness House Literary Review, Fall 2007)

Alarm Clock

just after dawn small feet
climb into bed
next to me
bounce up and down
small hands open curtains

mommy—look!
the sky is pink!
what's that sound?
the birds are singing!

little body down
curls up at my back
waiting for juice and toast
the day begins

@bonnie pignatiello leer
(Published in The Wilderness House Literary Review, January 2008

Stealing Breath

awake in the dark
I listen
her labored breathing
grips me

I am afraid to sleep
fearing silence
while I'm dreaming

I roll over and stare at her
she sleeps
full moon light
sparkling on her nose

I want to cradle her
until she wakes

instead

I roll back and stare at the ceiling
wait for the
seal cough
breathing machine nearby

deep breath
I count ceiling shadows

©bonnie pignatiello leer
(Published in Juice 2008)

still summer

quiet morning
except for the noisy birds
in their breakfast conference

from my kitchen door
i see
foggy soybean fields
dressed in summer green
corn stalks
reaching toward
the july sun
rabbits
scrounging around
under the bird feeder

i hum along
with the
music in my head
wait for
the sound of small feet
running down the hall

@Bonnie Pignatiello Leer
(published in Cram3)