Alone with the mystery

For those who seek the mystery, 

Time alone offers a gift:

A chance to feel the weight of winter clouds, 

Yet see the light that’s just beyond them; 

A chance to feel the rocky footing underneath, 

And hear the power of the waves 

Who both deliver, and wash the stones away; 

A chance to learn 

How small we and our troubles are, and yet 

How sharing them with earth and sky and sea 

Can lead us to solutions beneficial to all.

A delicate calligraphy

Earth, water, sky and forest — 

All a pleasing backdrop 

To the lives we’re born to live, 

And we, a delicate calligraphy, 

Tracing our stories over time,

 Reflected in the lives around us.

Distraction

When the world is such a beautiful place, 

Why are you staring into your phone?

Above it all

If the hurly burly world feels a bit overwhelming, Sometimes it’s good to get above the fray;

 To get both a different perspective 

And a respite from the madness…

Resilience

As the building blocks of our society 

Seem to be tumbling, 

Let us take heart from nature’s triumphs 

And trust that goodness may continue 

To rise up from the rocky soil 

Of our mistakes and failures.

Family challenges

In this post-holiday time I’m thinking of families: 

Folks grouped together with broad commonalities 

But subtle differences,

And how easy it is to celebrate the first 

Yet struggle with the second: 

The choices, the personalities, the styles and beliefs 

That make sense to one but not to another; 

The ways we revert to old patterns 

And listen without hearing, 

And how we manage to co-exist over time…

Gratitude

A gray day on an island, and a pond, 

With water lilies, and a boat — 

Peace, and a brief abatement 

From the worries of the world: 

Another reason to give thanks.

Gratitude demands response

There’s so much to be grateful for: 

Why, even the trees are gifted 

With glorious fall dresses 

And draped with liquid pearls. 

How can we not empathize 

With all who suffer 

 Heartbreak, loss, and loneliness, 

Famine, fear, disease, and pain? 

How can we not share with those 

Less fortunate than ourselves?

Learning from plants’ diversity

I wonder if those who oppose diversity 

Have boring gardens? 

Plants come in so many amazing varieties, 

And each seems so quite unafraid 

 To flaunt its individuality; 

Why wouldn’t we include 

 As many different kinds as we could find 

To coexist and fit in with each other?

Lift thine eyes

It’s all too easy to become distracted 

By the dailiness of life — 

All the demands and complexity 

Of that which is close to us — 

And miss that which calls us 

Into mystery, into silence; 

Into the future and beyond. 

Look up, lift thine eyes, 

And know the peace that lies waiting, 

Just beyond your grasp.

What does this say to you?

If you turn this picture on its side, 

It looks like one of those Mt. Rushmore faces 

Blowing out smoke; I was tempted 

To show it that way. 

But something tells me to leave it as I found it, 

And let you draw your own conclusions…

Invitation to mystery

Sundays are for mystery, 

For getting in touch 

With that which cannot be explained: 

With the wisdom of the ages 

And that inner voice that wisdom planted 

Deep within our souls 

To help us find our way to truth and light. 

Stop, look, and listen 

 To what calls us to new heights and smoothes 

New paths for undertaking 

New adventures.

Elephantine beauty

The elephantine beauty of these tree trunks 

Takes my breath away: 

To have lived so long and endured so much, 

Yet still be pouring energy 

Into their annual display of autumnal color… 

It gives me hope that we, too, can survive 

These current depredations on our society 

 Without succumbing to destruction 

Of our fundamental values, rights and freedoms.

Life’s layers

Life, our bodies, our experiences 

 Are composed of many layers: 

The surface, often fragile, transitory, 

Details lost in a fog of memory over time, 

And then the hard bone of things, 

That which solidifies into rigidity: 

Assumptions, principles, what will make us 

Take a stand, and then, beneath it all, 

The vulnerability at the heart that we protect, 

Scarred and wounded, yet still beating 

With warmth and possibility…

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.