This week
         Someone told me
I should blog less angry

Not realizing that the words begin
          Within me
Rising up and cannot be stopped

I am not angry but I am tired
            After the outrage comes the outrage fatigue
Because it will always be more offensive
            That a woman dared to tell the truth

I've tried to write beautifully
              Sweeping and soaring
Like a hawk gliding on the wind higher in the sky
              Instead I am the spring's first robin

My wings beat faster and pathetically
                I get a few feet up and sink
It's then that I chirp.
                 And sleepers find my voice annoying.

I spent my 20s flying
                 from my Midwest home
To the Coast and back again
                 To the stalwart Scandinavians

Who are my blood
                  But within me beats well
My wild, untamed heart
                  Which seeks its own way out

My head belongs in Minnesota
                   But my heart, my heart
Is Californian
                   Seeking its way in the wilds of the West

Where my boys were born
                    This week the wildness rose again
Within me
                    And I thought of the flowers in their hair
And the smell of the cool sea air

Off the Newport Coast
                      Or the silence of Muir Woods
And the way the mountains looked
                       Brown dusty or green verdant
When I drove to church on Sunday morning


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