Between loss and acceptance

There’s an overlook, a road end by our property, 

And people gather there on summer evenings 

 To watch the sunset. 

 But once the sun goes down, they drive away, 

Never realizing how glorious the colors are 

That emerge between sundown and night — 

A beauty that reminds us 

It may not be the endings in our lives 

 But the aftermaths of those endings 

That have the most to teach us; 

The intensity of emotions that arise 

Between the loss and the letting go…

Distractions

When I first began exploring photography, 

In the pre-digital age, 

The man who developed my photographs 

Encouraged me to take a weeklong workshop 

(Held in the town where I now live). 

One of the first things we learned 

 Was to be very aware of what’s on the edges 

That might prove distracting — 

And clearly in this I forgot to do that:

 I was so enchanted by that bright orange, 

I didn’t see my own feet! 

And what a life lesson that is…

The generosity of trees

Our plum and cherry trees, 

Which, last year, failed to give us any fruit, 

Are making up for lost time now 

And heavy with the harvest to come. 

I’m not a baker or a canner, 

Though I hope to get the chance 

To snack on a plum or two 

 Before we call the gleaners, 

 Who come and pick the fruit 

For delivery to food banks and schools: 

So much better than losing it all 

To the hungry deer!

How independent are we?

I

t’s July 4, Independence Day in my country, 

And red, white and blue are the colors of the day, 

Just not this shade of blue, 

Which is the turquoise—or is it aqua?— 

Of the ‘58 Chevy my parents had 

When I was growing up. 

Someone else’s restored version of that Chevy 

Keeps reappearing at the car show 

That’s held every year here on the 4th, 

And each year it triggers memories of childhood. 

I wonder now if those memories explain 

The appearance of this shade of blue 

In so many of my paintings… and why 

So often those same paintings have 

 These same, orangey-red accents.

 Are we ever truly independent of our origins?

Redressing the balance

Now that the fawns have grown a bit, 

Their mother invites them to share her corn, 

Keeping watch, all the while, to be sure 

No interlopers interfere. She times her visits 

 So the males, the bucks who push and shove 

All smaller deer away so they can feast, 

Are dozing elsewhere, unaware; 

I aid her efforts — mama to mama — 

By refusing to put out feed 

 When the boys are around; 

They retaliate by eating plants and trees 

The nursery owners swore to me 

 Were absolutely deer proof. 

All life, it seems, is a balancing act, 

And our efforts to redress the balance 

Often — though not inevitably— backfire…

Sharing what light we find

It’s evening, growing dark 

And the nightly watering’s done. 

I move to put away the hose 

And catch sight of these little flowers, 

Glowing in the dark 

As if they’d stored the day’s light, 

Hoping to point the way back to my home. 

May all of us be so conscious; 

Gathering what light we find 

And sharing it for those in the dark.

A celestial introvert

There’s something reassuring about the moon; 

The way she waxes and wanes with the tides, 

Sometimes igniting the clouds around her, 

And other times hiding behind them, 

A celestial introvert, carefully choosing 

When to appear and reveal herself 

And when to mask or retire;

 Adapting to circumstances as if it were a game…