When the mirror’s warped

Just a wee reminder: 

Your reflection will be inaccurate 

 When the mirror you are looking in 

Is warped: 

Be sure that what you’re told about yourself 

Comes from a wise, honest, and reliable source.

Transfigured

Sitting on the weathered bench 

In the far northwest corner of my yard, 

Stepping up to the edge of the cliff 

Every few minutes 

To peer around the scotch broom stalks 

At the distant mountains, 

Hoping for another perfect shot of a sunset 

Before the sun goes into its winter habitat 

(Too far south for its settings 

 To be seen from my home) 

I happened to observe 

This cluster of white berries 

In the bush across from me, 

Glowing quietly pearlescent 

 In the last light of evening.

 Marilynne Robinson was right: 

“Wherever you turn your eyes, 

The world can shine like transfiguration.”

Time to shine

That season’s here — 

The one where all the maples 

Start turning, green to red; 

Stand, brazen by the street, 

Shouting enchantments to the passersby, 

Parading like sirens till they drop their leaves 

To stand naked, dark, invisible in the cold. 

We, too, have seasons where we shine 

And others where, invisible, 

We hibernate — sometimes against our will — 

But then emerge refreshed, renewed, 

And ready to shine again. 

I wonder: do the trees accept 

Their losses as ungraciously as we do, 

Assuming permanence, 

Or simply bow their heads and smile, 

Knowing their time to shine will come again?

Forms of creativity

Creativity takes many forms, 

But this one’s quite endearing: 

To have chosen to grow in the first place, 

To give life to so much fruit, 

And then to have chosen to invest 

 In such astonishing variety, 

And finally to create such delightful displays, 

Even offering an elderly truck 

The thrill of center stage — 

Delicious!

Cloud dreaming

When  I was younger, I thought clouds like this 

Were the habitat of God: 

 This was what I visualized as heaven. 

And even now, there’s a part of me, 

Conditioned from my childhood, 

That feels a mix of awe and gratitude 

 On seeing the way the evening light 

Turns the towering mounds to gold…

Ships passing

Ships passing, just before the dawn of night, 

One full of people, the other lightly loaded 

With things that people think they need to buy; 

Each carrying a cargo of potential acquisitions — Experiences in one; possessions in the other; 

All things to be sold and to be purchased. 

When did we decide it would never be enough 

 To just sit here in the grass and watch the birds?

As usefulness fades

Often, as usefulness fades, 

A new kind of beauty o’ertakes us, 

As we provide a stable base 

For the future yet to come.

Content to sit and let youthfulness 

Clamber happily over us, 

We serve as host to new creative possibilities.