gray light soft soothing
smell of rain floats close to me
sound of trees drinking
_________________________________
Our senses welcome rain breaking a drought. It has been a very dry summer.
Category Archives: light
mountain mantle
cloud blanket from the mountain top
reaches all the way down to me
gentle gray in ebbing light
enwraps the shoulders of my soul
the night and what awaits
are gone and I am hid
a shiver in response
at best cloud rain is gentle
settling on the skin
its spider weight unfelt until too late
deed done a feather light ganache of truth
glistens over every inch
just as tight shut childish eyes
imagine invisibility
this passage through no more than respite
as I emerge so does the world
______________________________________
driving home last night after a day’s most welcome rain, at the last steep open hill, most of the mountain was hidden by clouds and mist, reaching low, a thrilling sight.
Woods whispers
Once home directly to the woods,
downhill into the shadowed green,
ecstatic dogs all tails and lopes.
They move from spot to spot
data-mining smells and sounds
then leave their marks.
Feet silent on the needle drop
my harmony mostly restored
ankles softly kissed by ferns.
_______________________________
a shortling to celebrate the gift of having woods to lift the day off my shoulders.
passing through town to home
the day has changed from bright
to scrims of clouds washed sky blue pink
backdrop to summer quiet playing fields
further south a sidelong glance
at underbelly clouds thick swathed peach red
flying over marshes at the river curve
in town the day is winding down
cars and people move intent on fuel
and food and rest for it’s been hot
and by the time the single light releases me
to turn due west deep pink to purple blasts
are shouting over pines and spires
I steal a look into our cafe’s glow
observe last patient walks for dogs
church supper signs and flags
the colors quickly leach away
though day’s end light remains enough
to cover hilly rattle roads
then rollercoasting mountain arms
a final sling to home beside the pond
in time to greet a rising moon
_____________________________________
even though going through town takes longer, I love to observe and watch along the way. the other night the stages of what proved to be a spectacular sunset were a marvelous backdrop to my small country town in the middle of summer.
moonstones
countless shed
in rage and grief
for loss of life
and love’s escape
but know my friends
that tears
rejoin the earth
to fall again
as rain
and with these
moonstone drops
comes life renewed
a moment’s chance
to heal and wash
the stench of hate
into the sea
and pray
the only swords
we need are
gentle arcs
of green
sun turtle lines
of remnant tears
safe havens
for our memories
___________________________________
a poem for a day that always brings the echoes of a loving grief. I send these words to join those voices raised to shout aloud their sadness in the face of tragedy.
A haiku for true freedom
we are only free
shed of anger hate and fear
bare but for love
gift of sudden light
morning brings the flowering world
to wait outside my door again
its gift complete
an honest bounty within reach
I glance away, and in
that moment sun arms
leap above the mountain ridge
to cast breath stealing light
and startle me to unexpected joy
when happiness, no simple thing
arriving first was present
and most certainly enough
light’s twin is thought
conjoined with time
its tipping point
arrived at step by step
the pilgrim mind walks on
until the heart is open
and able to receive
the sudden glimpse of truth
The green veil
A scrim of green masks the woods
and blankets its recycling brown
and fading winter tale
with upstart life rolled out
to mountain slopes
I know are there
Another green veil lives
across timegone paths
that memories illuminate
backlighting those
just out of reach
until we call them close
A flash of thought
to pierce opaque divides
and fill the mind’s eye,
arms to hold them
quiet and at peace
sweet moderation’s gift
remembering
_____________________________________
A poem for 5/8, mother’s day. The photo was actually taken much later in summer, when I was shooting the morning mist that comes off my garage roof after the sun comes over the mountain arm, and a series of remarkable night-built spider’s webs in the trees (one is faintly visible on the right).
Litany
What don’t I remember?
My collier brother brain
hoards words and time
with colors joining hands
to sing their song
I don’t remember
any moment spent
without a color wash
intensity of thought
I don’t remember
understanding those who hate
preferring to destroy
instead of build
I don’t remember
living days or nights
without a music counterpoint
embers into torches lighting memory
I don’t remember
sunsets painted on the undersides
of clouds or nature come to flower
without feeling joy almost to tears
______________________________________
A leftover prompt, from Day 29. Things remembered, and what they weren’t.
Morning as palindrome
As words begin their dance
glancing out at spring
sitting down at last to write
confident of its receipt
asking for serenity
another day a perfect gift
reflecting and give thanks
I close my eyes to sip
hand cupping warmth
coffee and the ritual of smell
checking lilacs apple buds
birds scatter at the noise
opening the outer door
woods featureless and flat
moving softly hug the quiet
slightly damp delight
one slipper at a time
morning work for dogs
stretch sloughing sleep’s cement
a feather shawl to float away
night journey remnants linger
as clouds replace the sun
light diffuse and gray
dog nose to tail against my arm
first awareness as I wake
a dream departs
________________________________
Day 28. I loved writing this. The prompt was for an event or story in reverse.
witness
morning light slants through spring woods
and the grass grows green again
three blue bags of roadside trash
and the grass grows green again
air is soft at dark’s approach
and the grass grows green again
screams of trees ripped from the earth
and the grass grows green again
early birdsong noisy joy
and the grass grows green again
news of rising hate brings dread
and the grass grows green again
summer stars the hunter gone
and the grass grows green again
prayers whispered for the world
and the grass grows green again
truth is not a skin we shed
and the grass grows green again
______________________________
Day 26. A call and response poem.
A line borrowed
For years every morning I drank
long drafts of the world,
without knowing
that words lay in wait
to flash like sunbeams
unable to dance quietly
until the moment of ambush.
For years I would tuck away
throat caught beauty
in dull green strong boxes,
to sit on bare wood shelves
until I could not wait
another moment of another minute
to feel and see again.
For years words found me,
some refused to leave,
sticky stubborn things,
and now, well now I recognize
them as old friends that held the dam,
until one day they stepped aside
to release the flood
as I surrendered.
__________________________________________
Day 25 part 2. The NaPoWriMo prompt was to borrow the first line of a favorite poem, and use it as a jumping off point for a new poem. I chose the first line of Mary OLiver’s Mornings at Blackwater.
Life With Horace 