Resistance

The old tree stands, 

Dark etched before the flame of sky,

 A sentry, bearing witness 

To erosion and the passing of the day, 

Clinging to cliff’s edge 

Even as its roots protrude, 

Exposed, through the sediment below; 

Determined — as are we — 

 To resist the tides that threaten to overwhelm.

The ripening

This, this, 

 Is the ripening season: 

What richness is coming to fruition in you? 

What wondrous new life is swelling forth, 

Ready to burst its seams and feed 

Not just your soul, but the world’s?

The goddess in the tree

To have lived so long; to have survived; 

To have carried so many burdens, and still 

Be so brim full of life — 

What character remains; what richness, 

And what beauty in the wrinkles and the lumps; 

What stories must lie, simmering 

Beneath this variegated surface! 

I bow before the wisdom 

Of the goddess, hidden in the tree.

At the threshold

Standing at the threshold 

 Of what was and what will be, 

We ache, and wonder: 

How will this play out? 

Not realizing that the answer lies 

Right here, this moment, now; 

That presence, or the lack thereof, 

Contains the promise buried in the future.

At day’s end

When the evening sun wraps the Madrona 

In a scarlet gown, 

We know the time has come 

To shelter in our nests; 

To look back over the day and assess: 

What have we accomplished here, 

And how have we made the world 

A kinder place?

Growing past our divisions

Split, like this tree, by events in our shared past,

 We can nonetheless continue to grow together 

Toward a future full of grace, undivided,

Providing shelter and nourishment for all.

Avoidance

Like these clouds, 

We’ve been known to shift directions 

 To avoid the mountainous issues in our lives — 

It’s human nature, after all, 

To seek the easy way around tough questions, 

But still they loom. 

And who knows what larger trials 

Await around the corner?

The challenge of beginning

It’s challenging: 

 When you get a glimpse 

Of something new you’d like to explore, 

But it’s clear those first few steps 

 May prove a bit rocky; 

That it might be a rough start 

Before you get your balance 

 And can more easily move forward. 

But don’t let that intimidate you: 

Remember — all of us had to learn to crawl 

Before we could stand and walk, 

But it was certainly worth the time it took 

For us to get our bearings.

Prayers like smoke

This morning’s sun, reflecting twice as red 

In my double-paned window, 

Warns of wildfires to the south and north, 

And smoke that makes it hard 

 For some to breathe. 

A look at Purple Air confirms 

That though we’re green, 

The sun’s red circles have multiplied 

Across this corner of the world:

 Prayers rise like smoke 

 For all of those who suffer.

True companions

Though we may travel the same path, 

The strength one needs to press forward 

Is only theirs to provide: 

We can only help each other if one falls, 

And only then by breaking away 

From our own trajectory — 

And at that point the risks we’ve taken 

May prove impossible to overcome. 

So choose your companions wisely on this journey, 

That we may inspire one another 

 To safely reach our common goal.

Happy memories

Gathered on the edge of the turquoise sea 

Like an alligator, poised to spring 

On the passing fish, 

The seaweed awakens memories 

 Of life on an island, 

When our daughters were young 

 And all of nature served as a toy to play with; 

An incentive to inspire imagination. 

Grown now, they still exhibit that ability, 

To find inspiration, entertainment and pleasure 

 In the simplest and smallest, 

 Most natural surroundings, for which I’m grateful.

What impels or repulses?

Faced with a big decision, 

My thoughts swirl round, 

Exploding with light and color, 

But what’s real? 

Is this an opportunity or an indulgence?

 A way of giving back and engaging, 

Or a way to set apart, or to stumble? 

When is dreaming selfish, 

And how can we trust our instincts under pressure? 

Who was it that said 

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained”? 

And what impels and yet repulses about risk?

Seen from the air

Seen from the air, 

The house where we used to live 

Seems fragile; insubstantial; 

Hardly capable of carrying 

Such a load of happy memories — 

And then, perhaps not surprising,

 (When seen up close) 

So altered by those 

 Who’ve lived in it since we left 

That it’s no longer the home we loved 

And dreamed so long of returning to. 

It’s curious indeed, 

 How time can take old dreams 

And modify them, 

Changing them to reflect more fully 

Experience and shifting circumstances. 

Thomas Wolfe was right, I guess: 

You can’t go home again: 

As we evolve, so do our expectations 

 Of what home — and family, and friends — 

Could and should resemble.

Awaiting sunrise

In the quiet of early morning, 

The ships gather in the harbor,

 Dreaming of adventures 

 And awaiting the sunrise.

Evening meditation

Evening: time to tap the bowl 

And let the spirit resonate once more; 

An invitation to seek inward, 

 Even as we’re looking out; 

To evaluate the actions 

And choices of the day 

And reiterate our gratitude 

 For the beauty of this life…

Trailing clouds of glory

The morning sun enters the world 

 Trailing clouds of glory: 

Let new hope rise, 

And compassion ignite the earth!