Friday, February 22, 2008

left behind

I hear the first yip-yip-yip, there

barking from the South, chuckling to the East

coyote summons North with one syllable drawn

into an impossible vowl, and the West

is brought into circle by laughter and yodeling

sliver of moon takes its time with the night sky

near and dark winter, these voices

like ghosts circle in waves

make galaxies overhead a cathedral

awaken me from deep sleep

pull that long note from four directions

here the long quiet night interrupted

season of departure and darkness, season of death

winter is a time of hibernation, restoration and beauty

why take the dark to mean anything other than this?

why make incubation and birthing, deep winter

menacing, humankind at its own center 

questions where to fit into the cycle of life

when you kill yourself, do you take my love with you?

do you take your love of the sea and your blue eyes?

do you kill yourself for relief or to inflict even greater pain?

does killing yourself make you happy?  When it comes

to this, all I can say is I love you

this drowning will pass


Thursday, February 21, 2008

soft rain, sitting and a pot of soup

looking out the window I see crystal clear drops on everything
rain is constant, branches and sky and rooftop and fence  all grey
tread softly so it is possible to hear the vireo's whistle, crow's distant call
not even the red shouldered hawk making any extra noise
soft muted day prepares me for the coming noisy spring

filling out a form for the gym trainer today... how many hours do you sit every day?
never, I say.  oh, it takes me an hour every day to drive to work and back.
that's sitting.  I am sitting right now, and blogging can take another hour.
oh, this winter I subscribed to Netflix.  eek, that is two hours, every night.
Gilbert Grape was worth it, I could've run away with Mr. Depp.  Meditation
is another 1/2 hour, sometimes an hour, then there is prayer and reading.
Sometimes I sit for an hour and stare out the window, like every other poet.

Lately I have been examining the word "allow."  periodically I use it in a sentence.
I allow you to show me you.  I allow that I live in a friendly universe.  I allow
beauty to enfold me.  I allow love to fill every possible cranny in this sometimes
convoluted mind.  I allow this day to unfold moment by moment.  

It has occurred to me that I may have never experienced this before, this allowing.

The soup pot simmers with chicken Italian sausage, potatoes, carrots
some beans, corn and tomatoes I dried this past fall.  Divine smells waft
from the kitchen stove.  The broth becomes rich and savory.  I allow
this heavenly moment to nourish every particle of my Being.


Monday, February 18, 2008


from Stanley Kunitz...  "...That work is not an expression of the desire for praise or recognition, or prizes, but the deepest manifestation of your gratitude for the gift of life."

The Buckeyes have their new green umbrellas out
they leapt past unfurling, that being too slow
I imagine in plant-talk, the Buckeye shouts
Spring Is Coming, Yes Yes Yes!
and I drive by on my way somewhere
important, on time, delivering or picking up
going to work or home again
I see you!  Your green is not wasted on me
soon I will walk right down this road 
take a picture, and post it on my blog.

For now we will enjoy the flowering quince.


Saturday, February 16, 2008

coyote call

Hope is revolutionary patience.   Anne Lamott

it is quiet tonight, Saturday night
not even the frog's chaotic calling
rippling this dark stillness
deep silence echoes itself
calls to and enfolds into itself

I am waiting for the first yip-yip-yip
barking and pause, barking from the South
wait, I know it's coming
barking and chuckling from the East
from the top of the ridge, overlooking
this small house

there, there is the laughter 
bark, yip-yip-yip has another joined
this banter?  now the howl
one syllable drawn into an impossible vowl
if I have a ruff, it stands up hair by hair
North is summoned

to the West is the river
muddy from rain weeks before
to the West is the run-off pond
where the frogs call until footsteps pad close
and the chuckling and barking 
take up circular yodeling

this dark winter these voices
like ghosts, circle in waves
make the galaxies overhead a cathedral
awaken me from deep sleep
pull that long note
from four directions
I think about the patience it takes
trusting Buck Eye to burst green
then Mayfly to fill the sundrenched spring



Thursday, February 14, 2008

A Day to Say I LOVE YOU!

My work is loving the world.    ...Mary Oliver

This is our work, to love without reservation.  Don't hold back.  Pour your love into every cup in your cupboard.  Find extra cups, the ones you hide in the back because they are chipped.  Get them out!  Fill them up!  Cradle them, chips and all, filled to the brim with your full-blown colorful love.

Love isn't for bargaining.  Love is for giving away.  Love is for embracing, accepting, absorbing, allowing. Love is for sharing, passing around.  Love is for unfettering, unfurling.  Love is expansive.

Breathe in Love.  Breathe out Love.

Use Love as your favorite ingredient, your favorite noun, your favorite verb.  Use Love as your favorite destination, ambition, goal, heart's-desire.  Use Love as your guide. 

Love is flexible,  mallable, indestructible.  Love is fluid, fills up cracked armor, mends broken hearts.  Love is available.  Right now.  Right here.

I love you.


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