A little pinkness

Sometimes we just need a little pinkness 

To brighten up our days...

While in recovery

While in recovery, my world’s grown small, 

Peopled as it is by deer, and birds, 

And distant views of islands, water, 

Sky, and clouds; by sunsets gray or colorful — 

All gifts that lie beyond the windows 

While I sit, or sleep, or walk 

The few steps I can manage, 

The number growing slowly, day by day. 

And yet, what more than this 

Might anyone want? An opportunity 

 To grow closer to sea and sky, 

To watch the vee of geese fly honking by, 

 The clouds shift as the young deer lose their spots, 

And the bucks’ horns lose their fur; 

To mourn the loss of color 

As the lavender in my garden and the grass 

Both fade to brown 

 Under the harsh light of the sun…

Projection

Captivated as I am by this old car — 

The immaculate perfection 

With which it’s been maintained, 

 The shining chrome, the texture of its paint —

 I think what really draws me, 

Though I may just be projecting, 

Is a certain innocence, a vulnerability, 

If not anxiety, 

 In the way its headlights are aligned 

Beneath chrome brows. 

Was that a conscious choice 

 Of its designer, a reflection of its age,

 Or simply an illusion, manufactured 

 By my own maternal streak?

When the telephoto battery dies

From our perch up on the cliff, we watch 

As the canoes paddle in 

For the annual tribal canoe journey, 

A way of sharing cultural traditions 

Among the Pacific Northwest tribes.

 I’d hoped to take a better shot, 

But the battery on my “real” camera was dead — 

Proof that the camera is now rarely used, 

 Replaced by more ubiquitous technologies. 

How heartening to realize 

 The tribes are doing a better job 

 Of keeping old technologies alive, 

 Maintaining in-person gatherings and canoes, 

Traditions which, like my old camera, 

Do a better job of bring us in close 

And fostering unity…

Making allowances

On a foggy morning,

 Cars gather at the ferry landing, 

Hoping that the boat 

 Will eventually be permitted to depart. 

We’ve learned, in all our island years, 

Not to depend on schedules: 

 Though it’s important to arrive on time, 

There are no guarantees 

That we’ll get where we’re going 

When we hope to, 

 So we always add extra time 

To allow for the exigencies of nature — 

Now, if only we’d make similar allowances 

 For the exigencies of human nature, 

This might be a kinder world…

God’s place

When our daughters were very young, 

Our Church met in a school, 

But had purchased some land not far away, 

On which they hoped someday to build. 

Occasionally the parishioners 

 Would head out to that wooded lot to worship, 

And for years afterwards, 

Whenever our oldest would come 

 To a clearing in the woods — anywhere — 

She would say, “This is God’s place, Mommy,” 

And even now, I hear the echo of her voice 

 When I walk into a clearing, 

 And I breathe a little deeper: 

This, too, is God’s place…

Waves of change

There you are, steaming along, 

Making great progress, 

Enjoying the world as you pass on by, 

And then something happens, 

Or Life happens, 

And suddenly the journey’s not so smooth. 

How will you react? Resist? Or go with the flow? 

How can we stay centered, 

So we can withstand 

 The inevitable waves of change?

Striations in the sky

Like feathers on a wing, 

The clouds, uplifting, streak across the sky 

In colorful array, leaving me wondering 

 What weather pattern’s this?

 A high? A low? Incoming storms? 

What fluctuations — heat to cold, wet to dry — 

Result in such enjoyable striations in the sky?

Humbled in the face of beauty

What words could possibly add to, or convey 

 The drama of so magnificent a scene? 

How could we not be humbled 

By the beauty of this world?

Subtle nuances of beauty

When and why did we stop 

Adding these charming decorative touches 

To the buildings we created? 

Could it be laziness, or expediency? 

Or simply that our cities grew so big 

That it became more important 

To be bold and striking from afar 

Than to be delicately pleasing from the street? 

And we — what subtle nuances 

 Have we sacrificed in order to be seen 

By broader audiences? 

When did loud and bold 

 Become more popular than gentle, and kind?

Confronting the stranger

When confronted with a being 

Whose perspective and appearance 

Is completely different from your own, 

How do you respond? 

Are you curious? Are you shy? 

Do you hide behind the things that keep you safe,

 Or do you scamper away in fear? 

However you respond, it’s always a good idea 

To keep the things you have in common 

Clearly visible between you…

On the edge

There may be times 

When someone you love 

And long to protect 

Comes very close to the edge, 

Seemingly determined to self-destruct 

And defying all offers of help. 

Advice, panic, and frantic admonitions 

 Are not what’s needed here, 

But rather openness, calm support,

 And a willingness to listen 

Can help to pull them back from the brink.

Illusion of innocence

Those of us who grew up 

Trying to remain undetected and invisible 

For the sake of self-protection 

 Might assume this guy is hiding in the flowers, 

But instead, like some of the bullies 

We might have been avoiding, 

He has assumed a place of honor, 

Surrounded by his favorite delicacies, 

And is chomping away at his treats 

And refusing to share 

While all the while retaining the illusion 

Of innocence and victimhood…

A unity of diversity

The new day dawns, 

A study in perfection: 

All things balanced — 

Light and dark, color and shape, 

Delicate and bold… 

How blessed are we, 

To live in such a world! 

And when will we come to understand 

How often the blending of opposites, 

A unity of diversity, 

Can bring results more pleasing 

To the heart, brain, and eye 

Than uniformity?

A foggy day

Rising after a sleepless night, 

I find the world fogged in, 

As if the weather echoes 

My own mental state. 

Some part of me longs to venture out 

And park myself in my neighbor’s chair 

To doze amid the green,

 But alas, I’m meant to spend my day in a car, 

Riding through a sunny, fog-free world. 

Perhaps it will clear the cobwebs from my brain.

A fortieth anniversary offering

A humble offering of gratitude 

For forty years, today, of married bliss.

Loss and growth

How direct his gaze! 

The curiosity and intelligence, 

The magnificence of his antlers, 

Still fuzzy from regrowth — 

Antlers which get removed in fall, 

Returning, larger than ever 

 In the spring… 

Here, too, loss and rebirth 

Have become a fact of life, 

Yet still we humans balk at change and loss, 

Despite the growth each shift in being promises.

Web of disconnection

I fear that we are caught

In a tangled web of disconnection,

Where the essential characteristics

Of humanity that link us, each to each,

And to our natural surroundings 

Lead us not to integration and community;

To the common ground that unites us all,

But rather to division;

A dead end that leaves our shattered selves

Flattened, isolated, broken,

And unable to resist the larger forces

That threaten to ride roughshod over all.

How can we begin to blur

That deep groove that divides us

And focus on exposing 

The  bonds that flow between us:

Restoring our awareness

Of all the ways we are alike, 

The depth and the magnitude

Of the concerns that we share,

And the spirit that enlivens  

Each and every precious atom of creation.

Profusion of nature

The sheer, exuberant fluffiness 

Of this bush draws my attention:

 Evocative of everything 

 From bridal showers to winter snow, 

It speaks to the profusion, 

 The infinite generosity 

With which nature showers us. 

Blessings.

 Blessings everywhere.

Cerulean illusion

The island creeps like a turtle 

Across the field of blue, 

Slowly working its way 

 Toward an almost indistinguishable horizon; 

Soft stripes of light and color blend 

To send it on its way — 

A cerulean illusion of progress, 

But isn’t that often true?

 That we can progress most handily 

By simply standing still and noticing 

The currents that surround us?

Projections

Another night has passed, 

And the sun greets me, 

Dragging itself reluctantly 

Up from its bed on the other side 

Of the mountain, 

 Pushing through the clouds and fog 

Of morning — but no, that’s me, projecting 

My own exhaustion and morning fog 

Onto the consistent, cheerful, reliability 

 Of the sun. 

When will I finally grasp 

That everything I see is colored by 

 The lens of my own experience?

Aqua reveille

Late day sun ignites my garden greens 

As the lilies trumpet their aqua reveille, 

Calling all the stars to prepare 

For their nightly act. 

The deer tuck themselves in

Beneath the trees and beside my porch 

As the night sky fades to midnight blue— 

Another day of healing comes to an end.

Reflections

The evening sunset decorates 

 The fig trees outside my window 

With reflections from the other 

Windows in the room: 

Layers upon layers 

Piled together in a pleasing collage 

Of colors, textures, and light. 

There is no need to burn our eyes

 Looking at the sun; 

It makes its presence known, like love, 

By brightening the surfaces around us.

When imperfection heals

Catching a glimpse of the sunrise, 

Reflected in the window before me,

 I hold my phone over my shoulder 

And shoot through the screen door 

 And window behind me, 

On which there’s a decal of a bird. 

Not a perfect compromise, 

But these days are not about perfection— 

Recuperation’s the name of the game: 

Allowing my heart to express itself 

Will help my body to heal; 

Allowing my art to express itself 

Will help my heart to heal.

Outstanding

Some flowers, like some people, 

Seem to get all the luck — 

Born to stand out in a crowd, 

They seem to have the brightest colors, 

Marvelous textures, intriguing design… 

It seems totally unfair that, in addition, 

They’ve also been endowed 

 With the sweetest scent. 

But still, they need the other plants 

To set them off and give them definition; 

To provide the laciness and contrast 

 That will make the bouquet more appealing. 

And they, too, must eventually 

Lose their petals and fade, so why resent them? 

We each have a role to play In this divine bouquet, 

 But not everyone can be the star: 

Be grateful the director cast you and found 

Your own unique contribution to be essential!

Freedom

It’s easy to imagine, from this distance, 

How freeing it must feel to sail along, 

Powered by the wind and unencumbered 

By the pressures and expectations 

 Of responsibilities on land; 

 To be set free from city streets, 

From traffic and angry customers, 

From briefcase or computer, 

From decisions and their consequences 

And all the other challenges 

That face us as we strive, thrive, or survive. 

Stop, then, and let me ask you: 

What would it take from you today 

To find that sense of freedom in THIS moment? 

Not through escape, but through immersion…

What is it about these colors, 

Their texture and variety 

 That’s so enormously pleasing? 

And when will we ever realize 

That it’s the mix — 

 The contrasts and the differences; 

The ups and downs, ins and outs, 

The varied scents and backgrounds — 

That make this arrangement— 

And all of life, really — 

So incredibly appealing?

Justice will prevail

What’s now a gray day 

 Was a beautiful dawn: 

An opportunity, of course, 

To feel that things have gone down hill. 

But it also reminds us that though things change; 

The others — the staples of the view — 

The water, the sky, the clouds, the sun, 

The wholeness and underlying unity 

Of all creation, 

 The divinity that infuses every particle and atom 

Will remain constant , 

Despite the clouds that occasionally drift by. 

Take hope from this, my friends, take hope, 

And continue to believe, in spite of everything, 

That the arc of the universe, 

 Which seems so long, 

Continues to bend toward justice.

Gratitude

I’m back, and my view this morning 

Is a double joy to behold. 

I’m more grateful than I can express 

For the competence of my surgeon, 

The support of my friends and family, 

The kindness of my nurses, 

The speed of my recovery, 

 And the blessing of all your thoughts and prayers: 

I’m quite certain they’re responsible 

 For the success of my open heart surgery. 

Recovery will be long and tedious, 

But every day is a gift, 

And I’m thrilled to continue sharing 

The beauty of this amazing world we live in.

Trust