Dancing in the wind

The fig tree dances in the wind 

Whether there’s a rainbow or not. 

Can we ever be that fully, delightfully ourselves 

No matter what the setting or the circumstances?

The shadowed path

Life’s a long and shadowed path, 

And though we dream of a boat to the other side 

The end may be just that: an end; 

No choice to sink or swim, but simply stop. 

So knowing that, what shall we carry with us 

That we’ll be willing to let go, 

And what would it be wiser to leave behind?

Balancing grief and hope

Whether that which you have built 

Slowly loses its vitality, 

Due to lack of maintenance 

Or is irrevocably harmed by a sudden event, 

It can prove challenging to look beyond the loss 

To the future that’s been opened 

By that unexpected vacancy. 

We grieve, of course, 

And quite possibly always will, and yet — 

We balance grief by remaining open 

To the possibilities that lie ahead.

In the spotlight

Yes, it can be lovely 

To be in the spotlight, 

But the light is always shifting, 

And not under your control. 

 Be grateful for those moments, 

But don’t mourn them when they’re gone: 

There’ll always be other opportunities to shine.

What fools

What fools be these, 

Grasping at the moon 

As if she could be contained, 

Perhaps delayed within their branches: 

She has her own appointed path and time, 

And lifts the waves and tides below— 

 No rooted boughs can stay her 

From her appointed rounds.

Generosity

Mother Earth has been so generous with us, 

Yet how do we repay that generosity?

Pierced

The sky pierced by a cloud, 

A heart pierced by yet another story 

Of betrayal and abuse, 

And we retreat again into a smaller world; 

Attempting to ignore the cavalcade of news, 

Knowing there’s little we can do to turn the tide; 

No march, no knitted hats with ears this year: 

We huddle by the fireside 

Whispering our fears.

The tree is up

The tree is up, 

But there’ll be no ornaments this year: 

They’ve all gone off to hang on another tree 

For the family Christmas. 

But it also feels like a statement: 

Life now is feeling barren, 

The values we thought made this country great, 

That we were proud to uphold, 

No longer embodied by its leaders 

Or, apparently, cherished 

 By those who chose them, 

Yet still, stripped of our hopes for a kinder world, 

We choose to brighten our tiny corner 

And share what joys we’ve gathered 

 Through the years as best we can.

Still waters

May the still waters in your soul 

Reflect the beauty that surrounds you, 

And the obstacles you face 

Give depth and interest 

Without ruling the overall picture 

Of your experience…

A life shared

Separated by so much more 

 Than a simple pane of glass,

There’s nonetheless that moment of connection, 

An acknowledgement of all we have in common: 

The air we breathe, the sunshine 

That illuminates our lives, 

The grasses, trees, and seas 

 That surround us both, 

And the children both of us have borne; 

Heartfelt appreciation 

 For the precious life and space 

We both have shared.

A marriage of opposites

The strange and beautiful shapes 

Of bull kelp on the beach 

When paired with the dark and simple solidity 

Of a rock lying in the sand 

Seem yet more magical: 

Rather like a successful marriage,

 In which opposites not only attract 

But somehow bring out the best in each other…

Finding a way

We humans have always found a way 

To get to where we long to go, 

Building ladders to climb,

 Paths and roads and ships to cross 

And stairs to descend 

 From the heights to below,

No matter how rocky or steep, 

Or what surprises await when we arrive.

Choose life

The gorgeous red lifts slightly 

To reveal a cluster of nondescript browns, 

Further along in the process of decay 

That soon will overtake the leaf as well. 

Even the cement below 

Will someday break apart; 

That, too, we know, yet still we deny and resist 

The inevitable processes of aging 

And celebrate what’s left of youth — 

And why not celebrate? 

Surely the choice to live an exuberant life, 

However brief, 

Behooves us more than choosing to retreat; 

To die before we die, shutting ourselves off 

From joy, from delight, excitement, and the new.

Always there

In summer, sunsets fill this view, 

But in December the clouds are colored 

By the sunrises behind me; 

Quiet reflections of a majesty 

Hidden in the trees: 

More subtle, but equally lovely, 

As if the summer door has closed 

But another wintry door has opened. 

If only we remember to notice 

 And choose to accept the change, 

The source of light and color is always there, 

Awaiting our attention.

The jewel at the center

Every time I drive past these two trees,

 I am fascinated, 

Intrigued by the shapes they carve 

Into the sky above them, 

So finally, on a foggy day, 

I looked forward to seeing those shapes 

 In relief against the gray surround 

And kept my camera poised 

But by the time I reached them 

The fog had lifted, though not completely. 

I stopped anyway, and framed the shot, 

And hit the big white button on my phone, 

Only later to discover 

 The charming detail at their base: The red shed, 

 And the white diamonds in its door 

Like tiny gems at the heart of the image. 

Pay attention! Listen to what calls you, 

And make time to discover or uncover 

The jewels that await you 

At the core; at the nucleus of being.

Distracted by the colors

Heading to my computer to finish the script 

For this morning’s news broadcast,

 I’m distracted by the colors 

In the sky outside my window.

 The slate roof on the old shed 

Glows in the morning light 

And the plum, fig, and cherry trees 

Sketch a lacy mantilla across the rosy skies, 

Offering an encouragement 

 To set aside my to-do list, and just breathe…

Whether to ignite or obscure

A patch of sun to brighten a foggy day 

Ignites a tiny section 

 Of the tree that looms ahead 

And leaves a tiny patch of light 

On the asphalt road below 

While at the same time bringing 

 A more subtle cast of light to our surroundings, 

In which every drop of fog 

Creates a sense of mystery, 

Obscuring what’s ahead. 

Each of us carries light within: 

The choice is always ours, 

Whether to ignite or to obscure 

With that power.

The gift of flowers

A wee bit of color to brighten your day: 

Winter may be upon us, 

But there’s still friendship to warm the heart.

Reflection

Just as there can be no reflection without light, 

There can be no enlightenment 

 Without reflection. 

It is only in considering 

Our choices and our actions 

That we grow into the beings 

We were born to become.

Protective coloration

You kind of have to squint to see it: 

The mountain’s snow-capped peaks 

Reflecting back the colors of the sky 

Are almost lost; so perfectly camouflaged. 

I’ve seen relationships like that — 

A person whose impact deserves to be huge,

 Becoming almost invisible 

 In the miasma of otherness; 

It’s only time and familiarity 

That helps us know the magnitude 

Of what is being hidden behind 

 That protective coloration…

Another blessing

Not everyone’s gardens have breathed their last 

As autumn draws to a close: 

We found these roses still planning to bloom 

While on a post-Thanksgiving walk — 

Another blessing to add 

To an already joy-filled day.

Art with a message

I’ve always admired those who make art 

Which has a story to tell;

 A lesson to share that might awaken 

Awareness of a larger truth, 

And so I found this sculpture 

 Particularly poignant 

In a way my own work rarely is, 

Managing as it does to communicate, 

Not just beauty, but a message… 

But how will we respond?

Gratitude

Yesterday was the first day in weeks 

That I had a chance to photograph 

 Two of my favorite things: 

Wooden boats, and a sunset. 

It was a perfect end to a perfect day, 

 With so much to be grateful for —

 Friends, family, delicious food 

(I didn’t have to cook) 

And beauty everywhere I looked; 

An honor to share with you.

An opportunity to practice

Today’s our day to focus — 

Despite all temptation to the contrary — 

On all the people, events, and things 

For which we’re grateful; 

To seek out and count our blessings; 

To remember all the gifts 

We take for granted, and let go, 

If only for an afternoon, 

Our worries and concerns and thoughts of doom — 

 Good practice for a future 

That will lift us from depression into action.

Monkey business

The good news is this: 

 I’ve finally taken the plunge and learned 

 How to combine photos on my phone. 

The bad news is this: 

I’m finding it hard to be thankful, 

Having watched a whole country 

Monkeying around with the truth.

 Nonetheless, I’m grateful — 

For you, for my friends, for my family, 

And all the blessings of this life.

Broken promises

It’s evening, and the cars are all 

Lined up in the dark, wet night, 

Waiting for the boat that never comes. 

There are so many ways we’ve learned to trust; 

So many promises, though broken, we forgive, 

Knowing that folks are doing their best 

 Despite overwhelming odds; 

That “Neither snow nor rain 

Nor heat nor gloom of night 

Shall stay these couriers 

 From their appointed rounds.”

I still believe, but clearly many have lost faith: 

Why else would they elect

 A promise to turn all trust upside down?

Courageous

Even the last tiny flower 

Casts a shadow all her own 

As she faces bravely into the winter ahead.

 Watching her, take courage: 

You, too, can make a difference 

Wherever you take a stand.

When blessings abound

Though the flowers in the garden 

 Are all gone now,

 I am blessed to have loved ones 

Who bring me flowers on a whim.

 Is this why this is the time of year 

We choose to count our blessings?

 Could it be a way of saying, 

 Though the fields and trees are bare, 

We are grateful for past bounty 

And we trust that good times will come again?

A restorative break

Sometimes you just need to kick back, 

Grab your favorite dessert, 

Get together with good friends, 

And enjoy what’s left of Autumn’s beauty.

 Take a little break, and feed your troubled soul…

Frost of age

It’s here again, that time of year 

When the fallen leaves begin to frost — 

That last silver sparkle 

 Before they turn to dust; 

Their wrinkled veins like fingers, 

Clinging to the earth 

And the last vestiges of life…

In wonder

There are those scenes 

That stop us in our tracks, 

Reminding us how fortunate we are 

To be alive in so beautiful a world, 

While at the same time humbling us 

With the magnitude of all that came before us 

 And will inevitably outlive us…

Caught in inconsistency

Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote 

That a foolish consistency was the hobgoblin 

Of small minds, a phrase I’ve always thought 

Was useful, and had merit — 

 Both as an encouragement to openness 

And as a rationale when caught in inconsistency, 

And so I use it here, to justify 

This abstract artist’s random descent 

 Into the representational: 

I know it’s out of character 

(For subject, if not for color) 

But the truth is, it makes me smile, 

And these days that’s a very special blessing.

Perils of disparity

For every castle out there, 

There are hovels hiding nearby, 

Housing those who help maintain 

 That elegant space; 

Who may even derive satisfaction 

From close association with the castle, 

Whatever the behaviors of its inhabitants. 

But the greater the disparity 

Between the rich and poor, 

The greater seems the likelihood 

 That any sense of common ground 

 And compassion for those less fortunate 

 Will inevitably have begun to wane…

Those monumental clouds

We’ve been watching those monumental clouds 

For a while now, knowing they presage 

A monumental storm, 

But what can we do? 

Find ways to shelter those we love, 

And open our hearts as best we can 

To ensure the safety of those around us; 

Batten down the hatches and brace ourselves — 

Or perhaps not? 

 Maybe take a lesson from the trees 

And become more flexible; 

Learn to bend, lest we risk breaking…

The choice we make

Those of us who are earthbound watch 

As the waves and boats and clouds 

Go scurrying by, and imagine 

How challenging it must be, on a windy day, 

To be both free and at the mercy 

Of forces we can’t control — 

Until we understand that, wherever we stand, 

That will always be the case, 

And we can choose to revel 

In what freedoms we do have, or mourn, 

Or whine, about that which lies beyond control: 

The choice, now and forever, 

 Is always ours to make.

Brighten the corner

The time has come 

To take a lesson from the sun 

And simply brighten the corner where you are; 

To shine a light on the simple, the beautiful, 

The ordinary — every thing, however small, 

That lightens the burden or sends a spark 

Of creativity, compassion, 

 Generosity, hope, or kindness 

Into the world around us.

Awakened by the moon

Awakened by the moon, I stepped outside, 

Shutting the door behind me 

To ensure the cats didn’t follow 

(They’re black; I’d never find them in the dark). 

Lifting my phone, I pressed the big white button 

(How like a moon, itself, except, unlike the moon, 

It never drops behind a veil of clouds 

As this moon soon did). 

However full and present, 

It quickly disappeared, as if it never was; 

So like the light we thought had filled the world 

That now seems hidden once again, 

Or just illusion, and the clouds, so dark, 

Are our true destiny, 

 All light and goodness gone, 

As if the cats had gotten out and disappeared, 

First into night, and then, with one last howl, 

Into the belly of the raccoon 

Who lurks beneath the deck.

Confined or free

There are those who are happy 

And content to be confined in their cages, 

And others who are free to fly 

But stuck in their anger, 

 Frozen by their fear and frustration. 

When will the time come 

When all can be free 

 And feel so safe in their freedom 

That they’re willing to take flight and explore?

Inspired by clouds

I’m standing on the cliff we know so well, 

Lost in the complexity of clouds — 

 The dark, the light, the rough, the smooth, 

Colors and shapes all shifting 

 With the sunset and the wind, 

A painting by a master I could never emulate, 

And I take heart: there is still beauty there 

To soothe our wounded souls; all is not lost. 

Inspired and revitalized, we’re fortified,

 And trust we’ll have the courage 

 And the strength for the work that lies ahead.

However dark the night appears

However dark the night appears, 

The moon will shine again, 

Waxing and waning in an orbit all her own 

To remind us all things cycle, 

And the light must eventually return…

Who will protect?

The clouds are gathering, growing close, 

 Yet still the mountain huddles in the distance 

Under her new white blanket of snow. 

Whether seen or unseen, her bulk remains, 

Looms through pink fog: 

A testament to power 

 So much greater than our own, 

Yet still made vulnerable 

 By her link to our shared destiny. 

Who will now protect her prize possessions — 

Her trees, her grass, her rocks and stones, 

Her rivers and the animals 

That dance and fly and swim and mate 

Upon, beneath, and around her granite cliffs, 

Her sparking streams and needled boughs?

Red flags and more

Since we put up these flags, 

The number of birds who fly into our windows 

 And drop, lifeless, to the deck below 

Has happily dropped to zero — 

And that is something to celebrate, 

It is, 

But their cheery fluttering in the wind 

Implies a joyfulness it’s hard to feel these days. 

I like to think the flags are there to keep me — 

As they do the birds — 

From slamming into the hard wall of reality; 

To remind me there’s still joy and life 

 And color in the world; 

That there are still many reasons to celebrate, 

Not least of which is knowing 

We’re not the only ones who are working 

To care for and protect the lives around us.

Blue jay blues

Whatever else is going on in the world, 

The jay still comes to nibble on my figs, 

Pecking furiously at their hard young skins, 

Ensuring some won’t make it 

To next year’s harvest, 

But I don’t begrudge him that: 

There’s more than enough to share, 

And the bright electric blue of his feathers 

Adds a spark of light to the blues in my heart.

Keep on keeping on

This may be a struggle, 

But we have what it takes — 

The courage and tenacity — 

To resist the tidal currents 

And to keep driving forward 

Toward a more compassionate future.

A light in the darkness

The sky is gray today, 

And my windows are all clouded 

With the salt from the recent storm: 

All echoes — or projections — 

Of the sadness that sears my soul. 

Though I will honor that sadness for now, 

 Seeking comfort where I can, 

I won’t give up, but will continue 

 To do my best to be a light 

 In the midst of darkness 

And keep love as my guide.

Lay divisiveness to rest

And now today, 

Whatever the outcome, 

We pray for peace; 

That the bitter house of anger we built together 

May fade into the earth, 

 Beneath a flowered carpet 

 Of forgiveness and remorse; 

That its remains might feed a new crop 

Of compassion, collaboration, truth and trust; 

That we might rise above our differences 

 And pour a new foundation 

Made of hope.

That common light

There is a common light, an energy, 

That fills and fuels all things: 

The earth, the skies, the seas, 

All breathing ones that walk, or swim, or fly, 

And all that’s lived, or loved, or lost to us: 

Each, however still, enlivened by 

A spirit that unites us all, 

Unbroken, circling the globe 

And all that lives and breathes or rests 

Beneath, beside, within us or above.

Trust, rewarded

Having moved to this community during CoVid, 

I haven’t spent a lot of time exploring, 

And I’m still a little timid; a bit stuck 

On driving the familiar routes 

To get to familiar places. 

But every once in a while, 

On my way to somewhere else,

 I take a turn down unfamiliar roads 

(I’m learning to trust 

 They’ll all lead to the same place) 

And oh, what delightful surprises await —

 Like this one, with its view: 

The snow- capped mountains, 

And the castle in the distance, 

And the tree, unlike its neighbors, 

Which has yet to lose its greenness and its leaves…

Focus on the light

So many of us wait with bated breath 

For the storms we fear lie looming in our future. 

Having done what we can to forestall the worst,

Can we not try to focus 

On the light that still surrounds 

Those threatening clouds?