Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

In the Hoop

we gather at the beach
where the river meets the sea

beers and kabobs
sweet potato salad from Mary’s garden
dogs brush legs
the sun goes down

by the fire
beautiful women
circle hips
with hula hoops
at sunset

pink clouds turn grey
orange embers flit
into darkening air
swirling in smoke

I try
the hoop
circling circling circling
then don’t want to stop
white foam in the distance
crumbling

“You look like you’re at a Grateful Dead concert”
a friend says from afar
I keep circling
“Is it because I’m wearing a skirt?”

“You just look like you know what you’re doing.  Like one of those hoopers at a Dead show”

the sacred hoop
the wheel of life
sun setting on small waves at sea
maybe my secret’s seeping through my hips

desire
to open to life completely
to die in utter surrender
gratefully

the marshmallows are out
Jeb’s made two s’mores
white goop stuck to full cheeks
granules of sand glued to sugar sweet
charcoal-covered hands

he comes to embrace me
head, heart-high
face on my blouse
hula hoop at my ankles
sand sifting through my toes

courtesy of derek gavey
Posted on by Jessica Dofflemyer

Windows

There were some windows on Sunday.

Moments between bagging three month’s worth of recycling and hauling it to the transfer station.  Time after I pulled out boxes and steamed-cleaned floors, trying to trace the scent of a dead animal in the closet (never found it).

There were windows with Radiohead, alone in the car.  Walking out of the art supply store with a fresh journal.  Opening the post office box to find a check.  Spraying countertops clean with the scent of lavender.  Pouring water into a new filtered pitcher.  Making popcorn with melted butter and Hawaiian salt.

courtesey of http://www.primitiveways.com

In the late afternoon, Jeb and I pick 80 Ti leaves so he can make his Hawaiian skirt for the school graduation ceremony.

“We need more!  They’re going to be able to see through it!”

By day’s end, I’m exhausted but organized.  Anticipating Monday but dedicated to the moment.  We take an evening stroll.  We walk slowly and choose the long way.

Sometimes he’ll hold my hand.  Sometimes he’ll practice cartwheels on the grass.  Sometimes he’ll hang on me like a jungle gym and drive me nuts.  I have to remind him that’s he’s big now, three-fourths my size.

Jessica Dofflemyer ~ all rights reserved

On the way back home he gets ahead of me.  It’s ok now, these days, for him to be a bit on his own.  He beats me to the house.  I arrive at the front door as he opens it from inside, a red ginger flower outstretched in his hand.  It’s the third flower he’s picked for me today.  I put it in an old glass honey jar.

We settle in for bed and read a chapter from Roald Dahl’s  “Danny the Champion of the World.”

Gotta love a Sunday with some windows.