Rainy Day Thoughts

Waiting for an early morning ferry 

And watching through the rain 

As the cars and people gather 

For the journey that lies ahead 

I’m grateful for the sparks of light, 

Bright indicators, placed by some 

For the health and safety of others, 

Relics of a time when leaders understood 

The concept of the greater good 

And invested in a brighter, safer future for all…

Reciprocity

All nature understands the wisdom 

Of protecting and respecting one another: 

As the clouds shower the tree with rain, 

And the tree weaves its branches 

To frame the beauty of the clouds, 

Should we not nourish and protect 

Those who need what we have to share, 

And should we not give attribution and respect 

 To those who nourish and protect us in return? 

But instead there are those who would 

Demean and imprison the other 

And dismantle that which helps keep us alive.

The appeal of a path

What is it about paths 

That’s so appealing? 

The itch to follow to someplace new 

We haven’t yet explored? 

The sense that someone’s gone before 

And cared enough to clear the way for others? 

A longing to escape what has become 

Far too familiar? 

Or simple curiosity, a reluctance to ignore 

An invitation?

Or maybe it’s just easier

Than striking out on your own.. 

Isolation

Oh, to be a cabin in the woods, 

Sheltered by tall evergreens 

And feasting on a view of the water; 

Away from all the hurly burly 

Of injustice and political squabbles, 

Lies and confrontations, 

Pointless chatter and urban noise; 

The only sound the waves, and cries 

Of eagles, gulls, and the occasional croak 

Of seals…

The prism of preconceptions

Looking at this image, 

The way what’s a mountain above 

 Becomes a kind of claw in its reflection 

And the trees sharpen into knives in the water, 

I wonder if everything 

 We think we are observing 

 Is really just reflections, 

Seen through the prism 

Of our own assumptions and preconceptions.

Restoring my soul

There’s something so comforting 

About being away from the manmade world. 

To stand among the rocks and trees, 

To see how life can continue to thrive 

In inhospitable environments 

And roots can find their way to soil 

Despite tremendous obstacles 

Restores my soul and gives me hope.

Last impressions

Even as the leaves fall to the ground 

And leave their imprints on the sidewalk 

As they dissolve in the rain, 

We, too, will leave some impression behind, 

Our kindness or brutality, 

Acquisitiveness or generosity 

Thrown into relief by our departure, 

And what would you have that impression be?

Autumnal rainbow

Driving down the peninsula 

To spend an afternoon with a friend 

It’s almost hard to say 

Which aspect of the afternoon 

Brings more pleasure: 

The hours of conversation, 

Deep discussions and hearty laughter, 

Or the rainbow blush of autumn 

As she sheds her multicolored coat…

Brief encounter

For just a brief few moments

 I held you in my hand and felt 

The beating heart of America:

 Fragile, wounded, but recovering,

 And so, to give you safety, time, 

And room to spread your wings and fly again,

 I set you carefully in a sheltered spot 

 Away from birds of prey 

 But open to the outer world. 

 After a few breaths, 

 You flew to me, resting briefly 

On my pantleg, restoring balance, 

Then off into a nearby tree 

And home into the sky.

Veterans Day

Today and every day, 

We honor them, 

And thank them for their service…

Intuition

There are times when we need to listen 

To the promptings of intuition 

And trust the possibility 

 That the longing for something to change, 

The impulse to make a course correction

— however slight — 

Might just be God calling…

Anointing the ordinary

Autumn, with its golden skies and fog, 

Has a lovely way of anointing 

 The wholly ordinary 

Into something holy and mysterious…

The joy of symmetry

I remember, as a child, my mother teaching me 

The importance of asymmetry.

 At Christmas, I’d arrange things on the mantel 

And she would come by after me 

And shift them all around; 

 Put two candles on the right and shift 

The other to the left, 

Yet still, as an adult, I love 

The natural symmetry of things, 

And sometimes take delight 

In ignoring the Rule of Thirds…

Troubling times

I love the whimsy of this friendly acorn, 

And thought I’d share today, 

Thinking you might need a smile — 

Especially if you’re planning to fly somewhere 

And are worried that your flight 

 Might be canceled, 

Or if you’re worried that your next meal 

Might be canceled, 

Or that your health insurance 

Might have to be canceled. 

In these troubling times, 

We need all the smiles we can get…

As the seasons change

Though, due to the earth’s rotation,

 I can no longer watch the setting sun 

As she brushes the clouds with color, 

I still get to see the clouds and their colors 

Toss their reflections into the sea…

Hope breaks through

Poking through the grass 

 And leaves of autumn 

As life and light inevitably arise 

Amidst the death and ordinariness 

Of daily living, you remind us 

There is hope, and there are miracles, 

And golden opportunities 

 To look beyond the losses and the worries 

And find grace.

To be a boat

Oh, to be a boat, 

In such still waters,

 Calm, and yet in readiness 

For whatever storms might befall me, 

With bumpers out, and extra oars 

And rope to spare in case I need 

To offer or accept a tow; 

Content, assured, at peace, 

 Awash in halcyon reflections…

Choices

This compass has me thinking about choices: 

The decisions that we make — 

Sometimes hard, sometimes easy; 

Sometimes conscious, often unconscious — 

And what they say about who we are 

And what matters. 

What if we spent more time just noticing 

When opportunities arise to do or say 

Something that more accurately reflects 

 What we believe, who we are, 

And what’s really most important in our lives? 

Would that take us in a different direction?

Buck encounter

He greets me with what looks like suspicion 

 As I walk out to my car, 

 But that could be me projecting: 

It might be that he’s worried 

That I caught him sneaking apples from my tree 

Or maybe he just wonders 

If I’ll ever speak his language. 

Whatever he may be thinking,

 I always appreciate that moment of connection, 

And his beauty.

Entangled

"Oh, what a tangled web we weave 

When first we practice to deceive,” 

My mother used to say, and now 

I see how tangled our country has become 

In this winter of such discontent

 And long to be — or even see— 

Some light spot amid the branches 

Which might be truth, 

 Launching itself into the fray 

And driving home the need to find 

A way to reach through, and reach out 

To one another, spreading hope 

To grow like leaves, 

 Uniting branches in the spring 

Into a single tree again.

More frightening than Halloween

Halloween seems so much scarier this year: 

So many threats are looming 

For so many:

Hunger, and imprisonment; 

Joblessness and debt;

 Homelessness, and lack of medical care.

While those in power grow richer 

With each day. 

What happened to the principles 

 Our faith and nation were founded on: 

Truth, mercy, and equality, 

Life, liberty and justice for all?

Divided, we might fall

Though we’ve grown close over the years, 

We’re surely not identical, 

Yet still, despite our differences, 

We present a united front, 

 And understand that, divided, we might fall…

Pumpkins

Autumn, 

And the pumpkins begin to gather 

On paths and porches, 

In windows and in doorways, 

 Sometimes accompanied 

By gourds, or stalks of corn, 

Their robust, rotund fertility 

Stark contrast to the skeletons 

Of plants and humans 

Hovering nearby…

Prayers for the frightened

However beautiful our sunset was last night, 

It pales before the worry we feel 

 For our sister-in-law, alone in her home 

In Jamaica, with the hurricane 

Raging overhead. 

However sturdily their house was built, 

I remember the sound of a 90mph wind, 

And can only imagine how terrifying 

 That sound would be when doubled… 

Prayers are flying

For all the terror in the world.

Grief

Grief, we know, is not unique to humans: 

This little guy has lost two canine playmates 

In recent months, and it shows: 

He’s clearly grateful to his human companions, 

But something’s missing from his life, 

And it’ll never be the same. 

Looking at his eyes, we feel the echo 

Of all the sadness in our lives, 

And in the world.

Reaching for the clouds

Like trees, we long to reach out to the clouds 

As they race across the sky, 

Gleaming like foreign lands 

With invitations to explore 

What lies beyond their darkening silhouettes 

 And dress in warm peach-colored light,

 Constantly shape-shifting as we dance 

Into the deepening indigo of night.

Nostalgia

This time of year, I could so easily 

Imagine I am back in New England:

These buildings, so like those 

Of the campus we left behind; 

These trees and skies 

The colors of Indian Summer — 

A term I’ve not thought to to use 

For forty years or more — 

But oh, if I were there, 

I’d miss the mountains and the water — 

And the people, but then, wherever I am, 

There are people that I miss: 

 That’s the challenge of leaving friends behind…

Small town life

A windy day, a cloudy sky 

Crisscrossed with wires, 

Trees casting a blanket 

Of golden leaves upon the grass, 

Blue mountains in the distance 

And two friends walking their dog 

On a quiet street… 

Life in a small town has its charms.

All things fall to those who wait

It’s almost like there are more 

Crabapples than there are leaves 

On this little tree, 

As if to say to the larger trees around it, 

“You may have larger apples, 

But I am more productive.” 

The deer ignore the competition, 

And simply wait — quite patiently — 

For what apples there are to fall to the ground.

What if?

What if I were to say this painting’s done? 

That the thousands of curving brush strokes, 

The drips, the scrapes, the splashes are enough; 

That there’s no need for lines, for spots, 

For tiny squares and illegible words — 

All the marks that I could add; 

Crisp afterthoughts, to give it definition… 

Might that not say that I, too, am enough?

Bare ruined choirs

Like flames, the trees of autumn blaze

Against gunmetal sky,

Warming hearts grown chilled in this season

Of hate, losses, and lies.

As the branches of government slowly turn

To bare ruined choirs

Where no more kindness sings

And winter goosesteps closer,

We wonder if spring will ever come again.

The promise of hope

A friend returns 

After a long absence, 

And we sit together, watching the rain, 

Exchanging joys and concerns until 

A rainbow rises before us: 

A splash of color when all was gray; 

A promise of hope 

When it’s easy to despair. 

And though it quickly fades, 

The hope remains.

Contentment and curiosity

Walking by this field full of cows, 

I’m amused to see that the only one 

Who’s looking back at me 

 Is the only calf: perhaps, like so many humans, 

Cows lose their curiosity as they age, 

And tend to focus on satisfying 

Whatever needs they have in the moment 

Rather than learning more about the world 

 Beyond the narrow confines of their lives… 

How can we work to achieve a balance 

Between contentment and curiosity?

Morning view

What clever artist’s brush is this, 

That shapes the morning clouds 

In shades of pink and gold,

 Then pastes them to an azure sky 

Above a mountain 

Dusted with peach snow?

Artistry

I can’t begin to comprehend 

 The time and talent it takes 

To create something like this, 

And seeing it, I wonder 

How I can call myself an artist…

Reassurance

This morning, as I watch you drive away, 

Praying, as always, for your safe return, 

I turned to see the water, almost still, 

Reflecting cloud formations rich with color. 

Nature’s beauty always reassures me.

No judgement

The flowers don’t compare or judge each other, 

Rejecting one another because 

Their centers are too large or small; 

Too red or gold; their stems too short or tall; 

Their petals are too curved or straight; 

Too open or too closed. 

Instead they cluster together, 

Welcoming both rain and sun, 

Their shape and color bringing joy to all.

Coexistence

However annoyed I get with this aging buck 

For chasing the doe around our yard, 

Eating our plants, and sharpening 

His horns on our trees, 

There’s something about watching him 

Dose in the afternoon sun, 

Just a few feet from my window, 

That moves me. 

I wish all the world 

Found it this easy to coexist.

Generosity of spirit

This is how I grew up, 

Thinking things were meant to be: 

The large sheltering the small, 

The powerful defending the weak, 

The wealthy finding ways to help the poor. 

When did generosity of spirit 

Become designated as violent and evil?

Echoes of Universal losses

Returning home from our evening walk, 

We came home to find this California quail 

Lying on the ground by our front steps — 

Presumably having accidentally 

 Flown into a window. 

We were crushed: we love the quail 

Who scamper daily across our lawn: 

The curious sounds they make, 

The way their headfeathers bounce, 

And their devotion to their families, 

And we ache for the loss 

This one’s children must be feeling; 

The losses children everywhere

Are feeling daily.

Light in darkness

I can no longer kneel with ease, 

So my garden has grown tangled, 

A no man’s land of thistles and holly, 

Dying branches and invasive grasses, 

Nettles and Euphorbia — 

So many plants that sting when touched… 

When you, helping my neighbor 

Repair his fence, offered to help me, too, 

I wanted to cry, and now, 

Though we can barely communicate, 

I see you kneeling amid the thorns, 

 So carefully creating space 

 Around the roses, Oregon grape, and rhodies; 

See how you wipe the sweat from your brow 

And stroke the aging willow’s branch 

And smile, and say, the tree: 

The tree is beautiful, yes? 

A light in darkness; An answer to my prayer.

Finding inspiration

Something about this beautiful entrance 

Calls to me each time I see it, 

And I can’t help but wonder what’s inside. 

But we humans — particularly artists — 

Are often misled or distracted by appearances: 

 Over time, we must learn 

To turn admiration into inspiration, not to envy.

Enflamed

May the fire in the sky awaken echoes 

Of the fire in your heart 

To do and be good, 

To care for the lost, 

To give what you can, 

And to resist and persist 

 In your search for what’s true and what’s right.

Global awareness

Those of us who grew up with globes 

May have been imprinted early 

With the awareness that we are all connected. 

And even though the names and shapes 

Of some countries were always evolving, 

We had a sense 

 Of which lands were mountainous 

 And which were deserts, 

And some sense of what it must be like 

To live there; some care and curiosity 

 For the Other…

Wholly ordinary

I was just heading for the door 

When this arrangement caught my eye: 

Not the vase, or its contents, 

Which are there all the time, 

But the way the sunlight 

Cast upon the wall 

Sets it off. 

How can we, like that light, 

Draw attention to the beauty of the ordinary?

If only…

If only we could walk on water, 

We could follow this meandering path 

To where it unites, then separates again, 

And then combines once more, 

And find it easier to imagine 

That what’s broken now 

 Could be once again made whole; 

 That the divisions that now plague us 

 Could peacefully resolve 

 Into a new and healthier unity…

Community art project

My little town has an aging fence 

 That’s about to be torn down 

And so the invitation came: 

“Let’s paint it before it goes!” 

The results — like the humans who participated— 

Are a mix of charming and beautiful, 

Poignant and humorous, 

But one thing’s for sure: most of us 

Will be sad to see it go.

Observing the familiar

It’s a familiar path; 

We walk it almost every day, 

But rarely pay attention to 

The way it keeps evolving. 

Whether it’s a walk in the woods 

Or steps to a refrigerator, 

A bedtime ritual or a trip to the store, 

We do it without thinking. 

What if today you were to notice; 

To be present; to observe 

What has evolved; what’s different 

Or even try another approach?

Slide into darkness

October, and the golden sunsets 

Become not only rare, but masked, 

As the earth begins to turn her back 

On light and color — at least for us —

 And the sun slides sooner 

And further into darkness. 

Hard not to feel our country’s sliding, too 

And wonder if spring might never return…

Where’s the blessing?

As things keep going from bad to worse, 

We have to keep asking this question to survive: 

Where is the blessing in this curse, 

And how can we bring it to life?