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Archive for July, 2019

I remember a few years ago
I was sitting in a towel
on a chaise lounge
in a sauna
waiting to cool off
before I dared
enter that desert room
 dry heat
flattening every curl
in my hair
searing my eye balls                                                                                                                        swelling my lungs,
when I heard
a soft voice
from the chair next to me
say, “ You are so beautiful.
I hope you don’t mind,
but I had to tell you that.”
“Funny,” I thought,
“I sure don’t feel beautiful.”
But, I turned
and quietly thanked her.

Over the years
I’ve thought
about that moment.
How it felt awkward
but wonderful
all at the same time.
I was grateful
for whatever she
had seen in a 60 something
woman.
She taught me
a lesson
that day
and I pay it forward
often –
more as I get older:
I notice detail
and beauty
in well turned hat,
whimsical lipstick
flashy sexy dress
heels
I was never able to wear
perfectly coiffed long locks
enviable nails
petite
large
sensuous
flashy
fleshy
earthy
ripe
women –
We are “shaktis,”
warriors
who carry
the torch of life
and I give thanks
to be one.

Today I was sitting
minding my own
business
eating frozen yogurt
on a busy street
when out the corner
of my eye
I glimpsed
a young woman
tight black dress
legs like a doe
hair lose and free
swaying
in the hot afternoon breeze
heels highest ever
and walking
with grace:
the words
just flowed
like an opening
melody
from the heart:
“You look amazing,
Wow!”
From a wise elder
to young sunflower –
may she grow in beauty
and know she is seen.
May she pass
it on,
recognize
acknowledge
and celebrate
others
out of the silent
dark corners
of envy
or judgment :
finding
beauty
over and over.

These days
I look in the mirror
head on
and smile:
each day
brings
a new badge of
a life truly lived:
and in them
I see beauty.

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Back in the City

I must have looked so forlorn
and lost
hawk spirit grounded
that my man
hung the bird feeder
that’s been stuck
in our garage
for a year
on the thickest branch
left on our
sadly shorn
black walnut tree:
I can see it
from the couch
where I huddle
staring
while it sways
in summer
afternoon swells
that flick
leaves around it
like a dancing invite
to the budgies:
green neon sign
for titmice
bushtits
warblers
maybe
a chickadee.
Alas no takers.

In my mind’s eye
I still see the gray
clouds
drifting over the valley
framed
by darkening mountains
as light fades,
feel
my molten breast
weightless
as I glide
red tail
high
dancing
weightless
listening
to
the river’s evening
song
refusing to fade
with the light.
In the distance
geese
white pelicans
sandhill cranes
nest down
for the night.
Venus bursts
golden
in the night sky,
a stray raven
cackles ….

Here on the couch,
I sit
and wait.

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My Man (for David)

I was born under
a fire sign
Aries
to be exact,
mountain creature
ram
happiest
on peaks
in
thin air.
You,
are a child
of water
content
to meander
gently
through waves
lulled
by seas
as blue
as your eyes.
I often
wonder
how
we
meld
into a melodic song:
my staccato notes
echoed
not drowned
in your fluid rhythm:
We are
blaring morning sunshine
balanced
by cool dusk
sunset,
fire
lightly
flickering
over water:
sacred candle
floating
down the Ganges.
Simply put,
we” work,”
and that
is everything.

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Sage Hen

32806111-480pxOf late
a new visitor
has wondered
into
our fresh cut grass-
this large swatch:
a sea of green
to
keep fire
at bay
as the summer
warms
rains
far
and few between.
But now
this field
is rich
with bugs,
a cool respite
from dry sage.
At first sight
she seems
wobbly
awkwardCEUR female
unseen
tiny feet
propelling
a chubby
grayish brown body
mechanically
forward
circling
the gravel mound
as if
rushing
to some afternoon
tea
with other
tufted hens.
But
like so many
creatures
she has her grace.
Her tiny head
bobbing
she turns
and lifts
a long tail
like an elegant train
finds a cool
spot in the sodGreater-Sage-Grouse-Photo
clears
it with her tiny feet
sweeping
side to side
and roosts,
her tufted
crest
lifted
in the wind.
Today
she’s marked
my day:
emerging from the sage
at 6 am
and once again
at 6 pm.
She doesn’t stay long,
wary
of the open.
I watch her
turn
and waddle
toward the sage.

I’ll look for her
again
at dawn                                                                                                                                                     this unassuming marm.

*sage grouse are endangered, but have been making a come back of late in this prairie

 

 

 

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Part 1
Sheering wind
flattensIMG_0140
sage
scarring
late sweet
summer
grass,
Ponderosa pine
dancing
to
thunderous tunes
clouds
translucent
envelope
mountain tops
bitter sweet
embrace:
hiding
fierce
metallic
lightning.
Rain pounds:

long fingers
digging deep
softening
the sod
rivulets
stream
down
toward
the valley
where coyote
pups
lift their muzzles
from the den
to smell
the scent
of life.

Part 2IMG_0139
Stillness-
one by one
bluebirds
land
on the railing
drinking
droplets
flicking
tail feathers
as
they drop down
to scavenge
over wet grass,
kestrel
swoops
down
from her nest:
masked marauder
riding drifts
finding
newly wakened
voles:
their inner compassIMG_0142
confused
they
scamper
through
wet sage.

Part 3
The dog
comes
out
from under the bed,
stretches
shakes
ventures
slowly
to the door
ears up
tail down
wondering
if
it’s finally safe.
Clouds
unfold
releasing
their embrace,
mountain peaks
naked
reflectIMG_0138
a late
summer sun.
Brief stillness,
and then
it all begins
again,
but in the pause
I rush
to scent
the wet air
and taste
its promise
of better days
when
water will cleanse
this strange
often
cruel world:
I taste
salt
of so many tears
but
as the storm
teaches us :
everything changes….

Part 4
In the distance
thunder rumbles
like a timeless
drum
light shifts
dog still stands
by the door
ears perked.
Not even the fattest
of ground squirrelsIMG_0141
tempts him out.
They stand on their
mounds
scenting
fresh air,
feeling
for a moment
safe.
The kestrel
drops deep
into her
hollow nest,
a few rain drops
linger:
an after thought,
but as I watch
a rainbow
crowns
the valley,
its colors
majestic
divinely painted
in this grey scape.
Patience,
patience
there will be better days…..

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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At Cliff Lake

Today is the 13th
day
1
3
of poems.
LuckiestIMG_3358
of all
this one:
tripping
of the tongue
like sweetest
amber
nectar
golden
precious
stone
stuck
between
my eyes
plucked
in love
to
fall
deep
in
glacier
clear
water:
far
below
wind
blown
cresting
waves
and
in the sandy
bottom
rest
nestled
for
all time
in total
stillness.
Only the osprey
knows
our secret.

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Afternoon delight

Wind
down the ridge
touching my cheek
sage
kissed
sun blessed
screen door
tap
tap
tapping
content
as
the sleeping dog:
today
I choose
to do nothing
here
a top the mountain
time stands
still
and waits
for one and all,
I close my eyes
falling
into
a gentle
half sleep
where
in twilight
I fade
weightless
between
now
and
then:
lotus
floating
in
perfect
stillness.

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