Rain

All night it poured, 

 And poured, and poured again, 

And I would sleep, 

 And wake, and sleep again, and wake, 

 Awakened by the pounding of the rain 

Upon our metal roof — so loud — 

And sleep again, 

 And dream of friends long gone, 

The memories pouring in 

 And leaking out again each time I’d wake 

And check the clock: has morning come at last? 

And when it does, I rise, 

And coffee doesn’t help me to disguise 

The lingering effects of a broken night, 

Or still the relentless sounding 

 Of the rain, the rain, the rain that’s all around us.

Morning glory

And then the sun came up, 

To show us how the snow had clung 

To each tree, highlighting 

Their trunks and branches, 

And then inviting their intriguing shapes 

To form a pleasing frame for her beauty.

Who do we trust?

What the porch light shows 

Will soon be gone — or so we’re told 

By our weather app, which boldly declares 

Our temperature is 38 (it’s really 31) 

And that stuff that’s coming down is really rain 

(It’s not; it’s snow). 

What do we believe? 

 Is it what our eyes are seeing, 

Or what our screens, our sources for all news,

 Propose to tell us? 

Where is truth these days, I often wonder…

After each storm

During the storm, the wildness, gray; 

The surging waves, the urgency 

Of branches, tossing in the wind; 

And now — always — the morning after follows: 

Long shadows, rest, and golden light, 

 Its color like a promise: 

Whatever darkness comes, this, too, shall pass.

Hold lightly

Let us hold ourselves as lightly 

As these branches cradle the moon,

 Carrying that light that rises from within 

Gently into the world, 

Trusting that, though it waxes and wanes,

 Its source remains ever constant and true;

 Shared, universal, yet uniquely our own.

Into the light

However dark things may seem, 

The light is always beckoning, 

Inviting us forward, 

Into a brighter future.

Learning to trust

However circumstances may have changed, 

And however protected and loved we may now be, 

It’s still so hard to learn to trust again: 

Something inside still seems to expect the worst…

What was, before…

Drawn to the window by this amazing stump,

 I tried to imagine how incredible 

The tree must have looked 

Before it was cut down; 

Like looking at the dirty bearded faces 

 Of the homeless on the streets 

And wondering how beautiful 

 They were before their lives were cut down…

Perspectives

This photo’s proof: 

Things can look really warped at times, 

Depending on where you’re standing. 

Given that, and your state of mind, 

You can easily misconstrue 

 What’s going on around you. 

Of course I could have fixed this photo, 

But it seemed to be more important 

 To communicate the possibility 

That what you think you’re seeing 

Might actually be misleading. 

Try, next time, to assume, not the worst, 

But the best of intentions 

On the part of those around you…

Shelter

There is, in each of us, a sheltered place 

To which we can retreat and view the world 

While still engaged, yet shielded 

From the worst of the storms.

 Remember that it’s there,

 But don’t be afraid to leave it: 

It will be there when you’re ready to return.

Color me grateful

Waking to this glorious 

 Streak of orange in the sky, 

I feel immensely grateful 

 For the colors in my world.

Empathy

Driving by on a snowy morning, 

I watch the horses in the fields and shiver, 

Grateful for the comfort of my car. 

And what of all the refugees, 

Unprotected from heat or cold, 

Lying in their tents and bombed-out shelters? 

We walk and drive and sleep on the same earth, 

Though miles apart: 

How can we not ache for that connection?

A liking for complexity

I learned early on as a photographer 

That however beautiful the natural world was, 

For me, the photograph became more appealing 

If there was something human-made — 

And hopefully pleasing, or at least functional— 

To add interest to the picture.

 I love this mountain, 

 And photograph it frequently, 

But on a clear day with no clouds to set it off, 

The structures in the foreground 

Help to break up the monotony of blues, 

In much the same way, in my paintings 

(Often a monotony of blues) 

I find myself adding streaks and stripes across

 In contrasting colors to add interest…

Ribbon of love

Awakening in the night 

To a room filled with light 

And a sky full of stars,

 I can’t but reach for my camera.

 All my life these ribbons of light —

 Those rare moments 

When the moon seems to be reaching

 Out across the water —

 Have always seemed to promise 

That we’re never truly alone…

At the crest of the hill

Coming home, there’s always this point 

At the crest of the hill, 

Just before we descend to the coast, 

When the mountains, the water, 

The trees and the sky coalesce 

Into a perfect union of disparate parts, 

 Revealing the glorious oneness 

 Of all that has been created for our enjoyment.

A world beyond

This morning, for the first time,

 Through a trick of the light, 

I caught a glimpse of the mountains 

That lie just beyond our horizon: 

Such a gift! And how wonderful a reminder 

That there’sso much more to the world 

Than what we see with our limited vision…

Beauty everywhere

Beauty is everywhere:

 I remember, as a child, spending hours 

Sitting in our graveled drive, 

Sifting all the pebbles through my fingers 

In appreciation for the variety, 

The colors and the striations of the stones. 

And later, as an adult, 

Spending hours on the beach 

Gathering bits of colored glass 

 While my daughters played nearby. 

Look around you, wherever you are: 

There’s almost always something lovely, 

Deserving of your attention; 

Something to keep you from feeling bored.

Coping with change

When all that lies before you 

Seems troubled, tangled, 

Complex and confusing, 

Look up, and watch the clouds 

As they shift and realign before the wind. 

Always changing, never static, 

Always taking new formations; 

At times, like love and joy, 

 So pervasive and substantial, 

While at other times they’re altogether absent, 

With all the permutations in between, 

 Yet each appearance offers its own blessings: 

Shade, texture, beauty; rain or sun — 

Each has its charm, each has its challenges, 

And so will all that lies ahead. Fear not, 

But keep on moving toward your goal.

The eagle’s cry

We heard the eagle’s distinctive cry 

And all of us looked up 

Into the tree where he likes to perch, 

Then watched him spread his wings 

And fly before us. We started to turn away, 

Then heard the cry again and saw another, 

Sitting on a nearby branch. 

It seems mating season has begun…

Walk with me

Though the clouds in the east 

Are thick and gray, 

The Sun in the west shines bright and ignites 

 All that it touches with contrasting light; 

We see with astounding clarity. 

Walk with me, and let’s enjoy 

 The feel of that sun on our backs.

It will be okay.

May I just take a moment 

 To applaud your courage? 

I know you feel you’re all alone, 

And wondering if this choice you made 

 Was right. Perfectly understandable. 

There may be clouds, but the sea is calm 

And your engine is strong and true. 

 You can do this. You’ve got what it takes, 

And we’re proud of you. 

Words we all need to hear.

Colored by expectations

I remember the first time 

My mom came to visit us 

At our new home in the Pacific Northwest. 

We took her to the beach — 

So excited to have one nearby — 

And her only response was to wrinkle her nose 

And say, “Why is the sand so dirty?” 

How often do our expectations, 

Colored by the past, muddy — even vilify — 

And determinedly negate 

The beauty that is here; that is now?

Letting go

It’s always a surprise to see 

The bucks in the midst 

Of losing their horns each spring: 

Like snakes shedding their skins,

 They seem to understand that growth 

And gain require willingness 

To sacrifice what has gone before — 

Something we humans struggle with, 

Clinging as we do to what is or was 

Instead of trusting what’s to come.

But perhaps it’s just their natural male itch 

To shed what’s old in hopes of something new?

When the river runs dry 

And gets overgrown, 

It may be time to look for another channel — 

But of course, it’s also possible 

That the problem lies with you, 

And lack of maintenance. 

Perhaps it’s time to do a little digging; 

To clear out those distractions 

And find your way back to the Source…

Not alone

We are, though it might seem so, not alone. 

The sea, the sky, the clouds, the beach, 

The rocks — they’re always there 

To keep us company when we are feeling lost. 

Spend some time with them, and re-remember 

Our connection with all that’s greater 

Than ourselves.

Harbingers of Spring

Welcome, tiny harbingers of spring! 

We’ve been longing for a sight of you, 

And receive with joy 

Your bright and colorful promise 

Of warmer days to come.

Exploring possibility

When we open our hearts and minds 

And allow creativity to pour through, 

The results can be astonishing; amazing. 

Whatever your chosen field of expression, 

Don’t be afraid to explore 

The improbable; the impossible— 

From such explorations 

Gifts to all humanity may emerge.