He sits behind the screen
the sun’s minute hand
remaps his curves in warmth
With not much else to do
his morning’s work is
out there living traffic
to watch and note
force marched ants in single file
small brown toads
leaf rustles out of sight
the swooping zizz
of dragonflies
A hummingbird returns
to drink then preen
this makes him smile
even they must stop and rest
The small world quiets
starts to wait for shade
when high sun moves away
raptors drafting on high currents
He sees and understands
Feeling stiff he’s up to find
another patch of sun
A whoofing sigh then
sleep, his head on paws
Category Archives: life up here
Flat light early
Some mornings present themselves
before my second eye opens,
no warmth, flat light,
featureless gray untrimmed.
Tight woven canvas hangs
edge to edge at the top
of the sky, and the living world
makes a new plan,
carrying on oblivious.
My patient dogs don’t
care a fig about the sun,
arriving bedside to present
mouth-damp slippers,
and we go out
to open up the day.
Night Paint
Four windows float the bed,
light outside and some in.
Ground opals bounced off snow,
that four month guest.
The moon is almost full,
curtained behind snow-melt fog.
Later, when the woods are green
there will be fireflies.
Haiku for (cyber) Monday morning sans notes
lemonadelemon
adelemonadelemonade
lemonlemonade
truth bag
being somewhat deafer now
imagined sounds dodge out of sight
bird noises, then coyote yips
creatures speaking to the moon
beavers stripping bark
soft words at night
wood thrushes as the day begins to fade
those I care about and want to hear again
a ways away, surrounding me
ear uncupped, not straining
that would be a marvel, singular gift
tears come just imagining
there is sometimes respite, when
the steeply rising road
is muffled deep in snow
no one singing in my trees
and outside silence is complete
ears freed up to hear what’s close
damned mouse scratchings in the wall
dogs nesting into warmth
wood timbers easing into sleep
unfrenzied thoughts
words emerging into verse
I call a truce until it stops
and plows cut through to rescue, me
ungrateful for release
none of this is worth a moment’s pain
but silence in the face of
evil, senseless, stupid acts
everyone can see and hear
(the instant truth of emperor sans clothes)
becomes a drawn out screaming wail
that grabs me by the nape
and shakes things loose
my voice plinking rage
words landing on the floor
about to skitter off, afraid
I snatch them up
so many jacks without a ball
and throw them in my truth bag
to pull out at will, tamed
for my answer
______________________________________
a prompt from last night’s writing group with Doug Anderson: silence
Not quite endings
The music stops and echos
shimmer then fade
our voices stilled waiting
for the flood of response
I fall into the silence
all energy given away
to singing’s singular joy
A long goodbye jumps the queue
to sudden extinction
Love lives on the mountain
ashes soaking into moss
his spirit coming back
to say that 40 years were
worth it all in all
and how are things
The chatter quieted
and in its place
a single sound takes shape
One note clearly formed
on endless breath
I find it comes from me
I had been singing all along
and never knew
_________________________________
a prompt from tonight’s writing group with Doug Anderson: endings
A haiku for place with notes
up the dipping road
mountain arm is bear’s shoulder
my home lies below
______________________________________
Multiple joys of September, cloud fingers dip into mountain creases, swamp maples step forward, my pine flags flying, one more trip around the sun complete
one for a good boy
holding in the arms test
he found them a place for stillness
I felt his trust and knew everything
journey tolerance test
he had little for road rumblings howling all the way
I laughed at his protests and sang with him
introduction to the first dog test
she terrified him huge and dark
I smiled this would pass remembering others
favorite places test
he took her shoulderings still followed bravely
I pulled him from the squelching mud more mindful after
contemplation test
he sat by her and learned to watch the world
I heard my heart swell seeing this
first misadventure test
he thought all ice trustworthy
I stood thigh deep in frozen marsh to pull him out
listening test
he found joy in learning many things
I spoke softly so that he might hear
finding his work test
he decided it was me with slippers
I accepted his gift dancing
____________________________
Day 2 prompt was a recipe. this was a tough one to get going. it would not share itself with me yesterday. once I stepped back, like a contrary child it bounded into my brain.
Meringue
Crunch under
my steps
over ersatz
spread snow,
Replenish
the feeder
cast seed
for the crew.
Doves hogging
the bounty
let others
go hang.
This fool’s day
with icing
starts off
with a bang.
_________________________
NaPoWriMo 2017 day 1! We’re off to the races, rabbit rabbit rabbit. This was a fun prompt since I’m not much for rhyme, but it always comes (slowly) if given some time.
foreglow
the old moon sliver
hangs branch framed
in white pine pins
and looking out to scout the day
I know the birds will fly in soon
to perch and wait
for signals from some
fulcrum’s tip
then swoop to take their food
but now there is no color
in the rising sky
the light shape cold
and wrong
time almost shrunk
and hope waned with it
until a shoulder glance behind
reveals a spreading rose
across the pond and to the west
a foreglow gift of elder mornings
stoking up the sky
For the taking
Perhaps the stars hold memories,
diamond pinholes punched in winter black,
life stretched across infinity, expanding
overhead, even as my focus
might be squeezing in and
only looking back, no counterweight
to shrinking time.
Well nuts to that, I’ll take
the milky way with thanks,
refusing blinkered days
or thoughts, and will not shut
all possibility away.
This heart and soul are
slated to remain
open for business
indefinitely.
The Night Ship
There are times the moon
invades my room,
as opal fingered fog
touching eyes and skin.
And as the night sets sail
around me into sleep
I sense joyous dreams
that dance just out of reach,
or sober trailers on the fringe.
Unwelcome memories to push away
tear welded flashes
from the day just lived, but
not now not yet, as
life’s flow starts
to telescope.
Slow, sinuous, twisting
to its vanishing point.
Each night explodes with color
and a shadow life
of longing,
whose breadcrumb bursts
stay with me
as the sun returns,
in counterpoint
to unquiet rest.
Life With Horace 