Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for June, 2018

“The world cup
will be held in the US
in 2028,” my son announces
and I shudder
to think
I’ll be 77 –
The polar ice caps
are melting at twice
the rate predicted,
adult suicide
rate has sky rocketed,
smart phones
stoop our shoulders
making us
slaves
and leaving
children
hungry for
our attention.
Not to mention
the raging wars,
famine
plastic in the seas
and complete
devastation
of our earth.
That’s the morning –
but as I fall
into the abyss
I find
my sweet
life line:
his curly hair
recently shorn
framing
deep brown eyes,
his skin,
the color
of milk
and coffee.
He smiles
so wide
at the day,
pure
in his love
of life.
Every mundane
act:
a worthy ritual,
such joy
in discovering
the same basket
of toys
week after week:
cherished treasure.
He squeals
in a secret
language
as he pulls
one trinket
after another
sharing his finds
with his universe:
the tired dog,
busy squirrels
collecting peanuts
on the fence,
in plain sight
through the window
that seals us in
to our four walls.
He can
point to
crows winging
up to the roof,
or bluejays
screeching
from the walnut
tree’s lush branches
which frame the view.

It’s a small
and cozy
world
these walls
where
anything is possible,
everything is new
and time
is in each cherished
moment.
In this place
there is no past
no future
no regrets
no desires
no enemies
here
all is as is
precious
valued
and above all
perfect
as it is.

I am grateful
for
my gentle
teacher,
take him in
my arms
to savor
his sweet scent
and feel
my heart
beating
against
his warm
frame,
I squeeze
him
tight
to gather
in every drop
of light
to fill
my darkest place.

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

The crow began
calling
at dawn:
guttural notes
bouncing off
the lush
verdant
black walnut
tree’s
wide leaves:
the same
“garbage” tree
we trimmed
down
to barely
a shriveled branch
after the winter storm.
I love this “worthless”
tree
whose shaded
this 100 year
house
summer
after summer.
From my picture
window
I muse at its
grace –
long limbs
reaching toward the earth
dotted
with
walnut buds
so cherished
by the squirrels –
they pluck them
daintily
long before
the nut shells
harden
and sit on the
fence
savoring the sweet
nectar
of young fruit.

This crow
knows
me by sight.
It’s me
who leaves
old cracker
crumbs
peanuts
crusty
bread
old
cold
cooked
rice –
gifts
for
a winged prankster
on this cool
summer morn.
I’m an easy
target –
violet slash
in my hair
slow
sleepy
gait.

From the edge
of the fence
he cackles
as if to hurry me,
and begins
his bounce
of a walk
toward
his
fresh bounty.
Keeping
one dark
eye
fixed
on
the dog,
he comes
dangerously close,
as if to dare:
darts
down,
now
side stepping
on the morning dew.
The dog
knows better,
and meanders
ahead toward
the scent
of marauding cats,
leaving me
to laugh
deep
from the heart
at my cloaked
friend.

Sometimes
in the light
of sunset,
I look out
my bedroom window
and there
in the deep
summer
foliage
on the highest
branch
of my protector tree,
I see him
quiet
but ever vigilant
preparing to roost.
He lets out
an almost melodic
sound,
slips
and
slides
from branch to branch
then back again
to the perfect vantage point,
satisfied
satiated
finally
still
makes one last
cock of the head,
and falls silent.

His ritual
signals
night fall :
I follow suit
curl up
book in hand
dog at bay
grateful
for
another day.

Read Full Post »