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?

Uninhabited

Uninhabited, like the chest 

Of a heartless leader; 

Encroached upon by surrounding vegetation, 

Which expands to break apart the structure 

Others worked so hard to build 

 And still the sky glows blue 

As if this devastation Isn’t happening, 

Matters not, 

Shouldn’t disturb us; 

Pay no attention to what’s ending 

Right before our eyes.