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How apropos
we are hidden
behind
masks:
smile less
automatons
our
grimaces
frozen
in time
like Munch’s
Scream
diluted
when most needed:
no show
of terror
grief
or love
in the face
of this tide
of hate.

It’s as ifjakob-owens-0VD9TGRVrBs-unsplash
a giant
palm
covered
our very souls:
but nothing
will silence
the movement
of time,
the storms
of change:
nothing stands
alone:
everything changes,
of this
we can be sure.
Years will blur
even this saddest
of times
when man
seems
hell bent
on losing his soul.

Tonight
strangers
walk at dusk
enjoying
a dry reprieve
from rain
cocooned
in their thoughts
‘ dreaming
of gentler times,
and in their hearts
knowing
we are simply
here
to walk each other
home…..

Another Day in Paradise

In the early morn
I sip pungent tea
and practice gratitude
staring at the small
20 year old fake
Christmas
tree
stiff and prickly
well adorned
by little hands
lights a twinkle,
slightly crooked
tipping to the side
as if wondering
how much longer
it has to serve.
Winter morn
wet and dark
goldfinches
at the feeder
swarming
bickering
squirrels
planning
a sudden
assault
silencing their
chatter
with a thump
now
masters
of the realm,
clinging
as they swing
tonguing
sunflower seed
through wire
like manna from heaven.

And so it starts
this tunnel
of a day,
which I fill
with
now
and
here:
moving
walking
breathing
being
because
I have begun
to feel
the sluggishness
in my bones
steps
slightly shorter
like these winter days
when the sun
hides
in shades
of grey
drizzle
and
downpour.
Like the afternoon
wind
my breath
flows
into quiet spaces
where thoughts
blur
my eyes
shutting out
the busyness
of life,
unlike window ledge
cats
noses poised
against
cold glass
to see life
beyond their reach,
I close mine
to see all the more.

Beyond my walls
my city
my country
the world
is whirling
into a hell fire:

we are all witness
to the bitter
not so slow
death of decency
kindness
loyalty
compassion:
might slung
rage worn
like a battle sword
pledged
to chaos:
how low we have come
where hallowed halls
are tarnished
with violence
defiled with
the very filth
spewed
from every
stinking orifice
of belligerent
incoherent
demonic
racists
raging
defiling
our youth’s
future
their hope,
their world.

Now, as the days
get longer,
light brighter
I walk
into the evening air
dog afoot
gleaming
a glimpse
of ordinary
banal
life
masked neighbors
nodding hello
accepting this
smile- less new
age
of fear
but still trudging
through
the sludge
finding
a moment
of reprieve
in crocuses
trying to bloom
in the muddy ground,
or a robin
tugging at a worm
and the welcoming
sound
of geese above.

The dog
is eager
to lope
up the steps
to his dinner :
I find comfort in this,
and know that
even if I can’t see it,
the sun will rise
again tomorrow,
hidden
but not gone.

Last new moon of this year
blackens
the sun’s
flaring
glow
in a cosmic
instant
freezes
fire
a vast
chronic
darkness
we have
lumbered
under:
chaotic
heartless
drudge
of a life
out of orbit
falling
into
a tedious
meaningless
void:
days marching
in place
one phantom
24 long hours
into another.

This morning
somewhere
in Chile
a child
wore
a homespun mask
turned
his eyes
to the sky
for a mere second
before
his mother
gently
lured him away
into safety:
in her embrace
he felt
the sun’s warmth
and when
she sang
him a lullaby
the words
wove
a golden
ring of hope
around
his tussled hair.

Darkness
now:
in winter solstice
we will
sleep
our deepest
sleep
only to awaken
to birthing
spring
when
anything is possible,
and in a flash
2020
will seem
like a long
frightful dream.

* Sanskrit – meaning “lead us from darkness into the light”

Standing naked
in front
of the frosted window
I dance
to this full
fullest
rising
moon
like
the primal
she wolf
my soul
hides
hips
straddling
its
piercing
golden light
while Venus
glows
witness
on the horizon:
she’ll glow
golden red
till morn
long after
you’ve set
over the frozen
prairie
where elk
bed down
and humbly
listen
to the shifting
of this winter wind,
resting while
they can
safe
from hunters
for another day,
and I
safe in your glow
and warmth
for another day.

November Silence

 

This is the latest
I’ve stayed
up here on the mountain:
county road still open,
so here I am
thanks
to the light snow,
looking down
at the valley
brown sage
snow crowned
elk bedding down
day to day
here and there
like chess pieces
moving
on this giant
brown and white board.
The birds are gone
but for three ravens
who buzz the house
daily
knowingly
keeping tabs
on me…

Today a huge
hare
jumped
from behind
a boulder
white as snow,
the dog never even
noticed,
his awkward
somersault
made me smile.
The half moon
has been up
all day
like a totem
to clear skies
and tonight
Mars will glow
golden,
but the greatest
gift by far
is the long silence
like a drink
of life giving
stillness.

Gentle on the eyes
this autumn light
reflected
in endless
shimmering snow.
Walks
become muted
dances
light
on the feet
gentle
on the heart.

At dusk
the dog scans
the horizon
knowing
today’s scents
are done
and we are in
for the night,
warm
surrounded
by the promise
of another day
here
a far
a top
our quiet
universe.

Hoy

Night sky landscape and moon, stars, Ramadan Kareem celebration

en el medio
de la tarde
around 5
la luna
rose
a half diamond
crescent
emblem
crystal
reflected
in
crusty
ice laden
snow
como
un barquito
de vela
patas arriba
flotando
en un cielo
calmado
windless
no where
to go
but stuck
side swiped
for me to stare at
longingly
wishing
its glimmer
might
transform
me
into
una gotititita
de nieve
translusente
que le da
de beber
a nuestra
Pacha Mama,
agua dulce
song of earth
life
to all
creatures
still here high
in the mountain:
the elk sunbathing
in sage
drinking
in liquid
love
golden kisses
sleeping
without
a care,
total abandon
as ravens
sweep the prairie
speaking
in their magic tongues,
and somewhere not far
coyotes
cantan
como machos en fiesta
felizes
de torturar
la siesta
del perro….

En este momento
te pienso
y te mando
desde el monte
un abrazo imposible
que rompe
la distancia
y te lleva
agua pura
que toque
tu lengua
para que cantes
like the little
wild child
you once were
because
time cannot
crush
the spirit
of this new moon,
let it light
your heart
and heal:
this is my prayer
for you.

Elk Full Moon

Early in November,
of this horrid
ravaged
endless
crisis laden year,                                                                                                                                                                                 the universe
ever lost
in communal
world wide
angst
breath held
as torrid
hurricane winds,
fires
and a pandemic
raged
we waited
eyes shut tight
isolated
in our festering
cocoons
to see if sanity
might reign
again,
in these
misnamed
united states,
I watched
the moon
drift
over the range
late
full
in its autumnal glory
and prayed                                                                                                                                                                                  unabashed
like a once
faithful
child of god
any god
for light
laughter                                                                                                                                                                                                   joy
all so banished
to corners
of memories

 

so remote

fading
like fallen stars                                                                                                                                                                                 in the night.
I whispered
to the unseen
for guidance
a hand
across
this abyss
this vast
gray
year –we went to bed
weary
barely hopeful
silent,
but
in the cold of dawn
I woke
bare feet
barely grazing
the ground
as if lifted
by a great unseen
hand
and landed
at the door
staring
at the moonlit
scape
of elk
peacefully
grazing
and bedded down
not three feet
from the house.
I counted 30 cows
and young.
In the quiet of the night
I heard
their calls
strange mewling
whimpering
soft stomping.
The night
was still
so still
their musty scent
wafted
under the door,
but still the dogs
slept unaware,

I froze
in gratitude
for this sign
of fortitude:
wapiti
you answered
my desperate
call.
You are the
bearers of our cross:
heralds
of endurance
and patience.
In the moonlight
I watched
your steady stride
across the grass
graceful
direct
powerful gait,
and even
as the last
crossed
lame
slow
I knew in my heart
all was not lost,
what comes
goes
steady
slow
for
such is the journey,
and tomorrow
is never the same….

Deer on the foggy meadow at moonlight.

Wind Song

 

On the prairie
every day
without fail
the wind
whispers
sings
howls
wails
whispers
cries
speaks
demands
cajoles
seduces
embraces
lashes
vanishes
behind
the ridge
leaving
unspoken
words
mysteries
only
the aspen
fir
sage
decipher
while
my ears
heavy
deaf tone
try to
sift
no more
the wiser
yet
intuiting
such
ancient
wisdom
drinking
into
my heart
so
one
day
I may
drift off
into
a sudden
gust.

Lucky for us
two candidates
managed
to play
at debate
spouting
the usual
promises of
change,
too perfect deals
and
the typical
gobbledegook:
Early Halloween
costumed
up to the nines
in patriotism
empathy
apology
promising
the ever longer
list
of needed
un deliverable
desires
unabashedly
painted
in political
cliches:
phrases
dribbling off
the tongue
like so much
fluff.
Oh yes,
some vague
concessions
polite
side stepping
glances
askew
forced calm
smiles
tinged
with pomp
and
circumstance.

Words
come and go:
cheap
these days.
But in the end,
the only
real hero
was
the fly
on the wall.

Sometimes
as I stare out
over the prairie
I feel the stillness
of time:
its passage
caught
frozen
in one
bending
long
dry
wheat
colored
stalk:
not long ago
this field
was green
with life
wildflowers
in every
color
bright
in morning light,
small
unseen
creatures
scurrying
filling
their bellies
with summer
abundance.
The sun
has parched
the earth
day by day
so now
only
the raven
glides
in
dimming light
his loud
brash
cawing
announcing
the turning
of the tide.
Time stops
for no one
not even
the mightiest:
for they shall
be the first
to fall.

Look no further
than
arms length
and know
this too shall pass.