Archive for September, 2011

30
Sep
11

small is big

Giiggles

From the back

Bedroom,

Mixed

With occasional thumps and thuds,

Fill

The evening

With

Such joyousness

And reminders

To remain

Thankful

For the biggest

Of small blessings

And gifts.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

September 30, 2011

29
Sep
11

untitled fragment- September 29, 2011

Sitting

In

The near silence

Of the

Evening,

With

The cool air

Gently

Blowing

Through

The partially open window.

The music

Plays

Softly,

Almost

Muted

By the sound of passing cars just beyond my desk with a window view of the world outside.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

September 29, 2011

28
Sep
11

Four letter word

Fear

Is another

Four letter word

Beginning with F.

Just like

The other,

It can

Leave you

Shaking

In a mass

Of tangled limbs

And sweaty

Breathlessness.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

September 28, 2011

22
Sep
11

In the other room

They’ve gone

To sleep

In the other room-

Snorts and grunts

And tiny snores

Float

Into my ears

As they twist

And turn

In their beds,

With blankets

Trapped

Around their legs.

Once in a while

I sneak in

To check

On them-

Just to

See them

At rest.

The daughters

And the wife,

All unaware

Of my watching

From the edge

Of their

Sleep.

Each rise

And fall

Of their tiny chests

Fills me with the hope of a new day and life filled with their voices and periodic pauses to say “I love you”, as they race away again.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

September 22, 2011

22
Sep
11

Gliding

I watch

As she moves

Gracefully,

From moment

To moment

And place

To place,

As if gliding

Above the surface

Of everything,

With a quiet elegance

And a stoic beauty

That I can hardly comprehend.

She speaks

In hushed tones

To our daughter

In a language

I don’t yet

Know-

But the two of them

Comprehend

Each other.

Her tiny and delicate

Body

Is strong

From countless

Laps

In the pool

Each morning

Before the sun

Rises from its bed

Of a far horizon.

She comes home each morning

As I stand

In the kitchen

Steaming milk

For her coffee,

Half awake

And semi-coherent,

With one

Or both

Daughters

Clinging

To the edges

Of my fleeting sleep.

When the fog

Begins to lift,

I see her

Again-

My tiny beacon

Of beauty

And sanity.

 

Timothy Vance Jackson

September 22, 2011




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