402.
The balance
of the mountains. Bleak
forgiveness
of weakness
even as there is contempt.
You are beyond small.
5/20/22
403.
bleeding out
in a sticky slow ooze. Spikes
fresh broken
aloe plant
in a slow spin pot to floor
dirt scattered. It hurts.
5/20/22
405.
not yet she
doesn’t know it but
she and her
umbrella
will be whisked off by the wind
and her wildest dream
6/15/22
Claudia McGill Writes Poetry, Did You Know That? 
The final poem reminds me of the time that my second son was lifted off his feet and floated above the ground for an instant because he got caught in a very strong wind. Luckily he was holding my hand so was anchored. However, I often have the image of him flying upwards into the sky whenever I see an umbrella caught in an upward gust.
I really like the poignant description of the broken aloe plant. The leaking sap really could be the blood seeping from an injury.
That is scary about your son. OMG, a flying son like an umbrella. And I have always thought aloe plants bled, ever since I was small and saw my first one with a broken spike.