the world is a wonder
we hold light to what we know
seeking flowers seeking something
expecting rain between rainbows
if I were a sharp blue pencil
I’d draw a wall of moon windows
so I could witness your star’s arrival
mouth the sound as the wind blows~
begin with a question
how can we relate
there is no barrier between
silence and possibility
except to notice the opening
and deciding where it is
we go from here~
are you having a good day?
did you go to church this morning?
a young man with glasses and a satchel
asked of me last Sunday
in the amber light of a parking garage
a fluid and friendly exchange
if slightly unexpected and strange
I answered it was an excellent day
and returned the question to him
I said of course I did, first thing
adding: “did you?”
he wanted to know what church
so I gave him this answer too
then we parted on the windy street
I to a film about Mary Oliver
he to the next one in line~
Go soft now
Listen
Flow
Hold on
Don’t fall apart
Make Art Make Art~
still beauty
held breath
pure moments
no promise
to stay~
Quiet, the nasturtium
reaches from the crown
a corner of serenity
safe from night winds
and lunching wildlife
filtered sunlight
just enough to nurture
colours and waves
Buddha smiles
forgiving us our neglect
the harm of winter’s cold
a cheek scar like a river
contained and useful
caressed by a single
soft stem~
inhale this next moment
next frame ready on the exhale
never to meet yet aware
of their codependence
this cyclical continuum
forward motion a lit ferris wheel
infinity forever on the moist lip
of each horizon
visible through the haze half
imagined half intuitive knowledge
perpetuity just out of reach
is it faith
keeps us upright
stepping forward into future’s path
sometimes clear often not
a barely audible whisper beckoning
drawing us forth with promises
vague but enticing enough
augmented by our curiosity
conjured hope or delusions
inhale this moment and sometimes
pause
exhale into the next adventure
shedding the already gone
past slips away like petals in the wind
forward forward
this life is a one way street
experience our scenic flow from
a window of a passenger train
breathe in deep then let go
forward forward
backstepping only leads to
the grave~
soft light
slow down rainy nights
homegrown~
it was me
and my
long straw broom
a hot house room
and butterfly
because we met
because flowers bloom
one of us
can still fly~
I am sitting on damp ground
in my ragged garden with light rain
There is something kinda peaceful
in gardens when spring’s all around
A robin—maybe the same I’ve seen—
lands graceful and soft for a drink
From down low my noticing is keen
look at the single blooming black violet
See how white sage has emerged again
yarrow’s leaves lift and fall like wings
Old chime in the juniper is rusting
but its song’s still subtle sweet
For all these gifts of life I am grateful
quieting voices of conflict and rage
I wish for everyone a space of garden
to be alone awhile with the solace of light rain~