Life With Horace

poetry & essays

Category Archives: poetry


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dawn reflected

unaccustomed light beams up from my small pond
a gift I grudge our downstream beaver cadre,
shermanesque repurposers of woods and mud
whose path had thinned the eastern trees
this morning’s sight was not the sliver moon
pendant under brilliant venus
that had called to me in bed
but dawn with spikes of leafless trees
in shadowed counterpoint

the possibility of future treats looms large
even as my mind resists this change
reflected moons and shooting stars
crusted ice or waves of snow
morse code tracks from there to here
so as I fight to deconstruct
the engineering feat that threatens
to engulf beloved trees
I whisper thanks for fallout gifts
and pray that what comes next is peace

___________________________________________________
the back boundary of my land is a named brook, with a small seasonal pondlet cum mudhole, which was quickly becoming a full on pond by the time I realized what was happening at the end of this summer. beavers are amazing engineers, cross layering branches and twigs to make their dams, and excavating existing banks for mud to wall new water in. taking all this down is not easy, and I was quite sad about having to do it, until I discovered that there was no lodge out back but only “land grooming” for future expansion. I suspect this is merely the latest skirmish between the beavers and the owners of this house since it was built in 1796.


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haiku for Monday with notes

moon’s afterglow fades
star shapes sink into the trees
Orion still hunts

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living at the foot of a mountain means a casual glance outside is usually framed by tall pines, or stars dipping below the horizon just above the house. the seasonal sky shift is here, with winter favorites like Orion returning. the night sky has been clear most nights, and the stars have been bright in spite of the recent full moon.

 


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the onion revealed

with all its skin removed
and moonstone lotus arms pulled back
the onion has no center
only tear provoking sharpness
seeping from its pores
but you and I have hearts
that feed our souls and break sometimes
laid bare in throes of love
or simply listening to the echoes
of a whispered thought
a memory of longing sweeping back
to fan regret at loss
we wear our years like onion skin
the proof of who we were opaque
of how we danced or soared
looked at the world from eyes that saw
time infinite us invincible
too quick to jump into the flow
of forces greater than our will
to hold them back
where war or danger
grabbed us by the throat and shook
tossing what was left aside
or living tamer slower lives
bumps and buffets taken as they came
no matter what our start
we all arrive at later’s trailhead
wondering where our eagerness and joy have fled
energies no longer at our ready beck
resignation sometimes held at bay
and yet our beating core
holds all of it on layaway
to draw on if we can
so when I lie with moonlight
shadows raked across my skin
and you reach out with forge hot hands
time falls away leaving elemental us
certain only of this moment
and its gift


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scattershot season

like random bursts of color
or drought licked leaves
my transformation waltzes slowly
through the thickets of impatience
skirting good intentions
wanting every item on my
inner laundry list of psychic tweaks
checked off in double time
to quit the job of Tantalus’ understudy
reaching for the ease I see in others
never tongue tied in the light
of those whose minds and gifts
can freeze me in my tracks
as adolescent echoes chase me down
my blurted words so many zombie zits,
I crave deliverance from this dread
to stamp distortion into weightlessness
and see it float away, swept on by
migrant wings that set me flying too


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the empty hour

driving south with dogs and moon
my sole companions
through a world now shuttered, faceless
not quite dead, a piece of time
between the dregs of night wound down
and any thought of lighted day
no nameless lurkers crowding thoughts
as unaccustomed full face brightness
pushes back those waves of menace
rushing from the black hole dark
until their clinging dread recedes
then trickles off the shouldered road and trees
fades dark blank glass and shadowed cars
to question marks, a thousand lives imagined
in the moments we pass by
my honor guard lies nose to tail
the comfort of their smell and noisy dreams
has wrapped my shoulders well against the chill
and we move on

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we all know this time of night, and driving through it in the light of a full moon changes everything.


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conversation with a horse

it starts again where it left off
no steady stream of cogent thought
but snips of words implied
and whuffing breath upon my hair
a toss of eyes, soft nosing in my hand
fingered lips come for their gift
and stay to glean the remnant juice
I stand between them
under arching heads and necks
unafraid and shivering with joy
our steps retrace
an imprint starmap dance
away from stepping heavy hoof
and back, to look up
into eyes that hold infinity

_________________________
for Pamela Moshimer Rickenbach, Mithra and Brian, and the horses of Blue Star Equitation.


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top of the eighth

numbers (have) never mattered
no importance given,
celebration while rome danced
the very thing,
my road stretched out ahead
endless to the next rise.
today I pause to count
and though the exit sign
is out of sight and mind
I sense it up ahead.
memo to the fates
you are heard and understood,
but while
music is in my blood
and on my tongue,
words spring from my hand
to shout upon the page,
light and color unshutter joy,
there is love to fill me up
and to return without reserve,
my legs strive to scale the heights
and cover distance yet again,
the tendrils of my soul
reach out to wetlands
and woodland heartbeats
in the company of birdsong,
my flesh can still be
branded by a lover’s hand
to summon undiminished ecstasy,
why then, oh yes
I am most certainly alive,
not just living, treading time
but riding it full throttle
to the very end

she sent a shower of stars


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journey to my tribe

the sky’s first star night’s scout
piercing the scrim of fading light
that hides the spirit dome of heaven
once seen it must be wished on
our lore never for ourselves
to make the magic work

my heart stored its wishes where it could
in the beams of other stars
under the wings of catbirds
in the warmth of sleepy dark
deep in thrush song
or layered in the lamp hung blue of early night
all forgotten over time
in the flow of life away from wonder
wearing down the prickly instincts
of a younger self

walking in my wake unseen
there was a dream gatherer
Ninhan my ancestor of the Mohawk people
taking wishes to her heart
against a future need she knew would come

some years ago my heart connected
with the force of messy life
in a nearby marshland
talisman and refuge
where my feet felt rooted
its spirit cloaked my shoulders
settling on my skin and filling my eyes
the very heart of life

seeing this she knew the time had come
and sowed the air with a wish become a dream
and so I sang again
another as a glowing drop to open up my eyes
rejoice once more in line and color

my deepest wish was to create without restraint
to find the headwaters of my soul
almost buried by the dark paned windows of an early time
faces of blank fear following me from age to age
until I went there in a dream
to vanquish them and bring back light

her answer was
to shower me with stars
a million wishes worth
that set me sparking
whirling to catch words
and once more find my voice
to shout aloud with joy


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o chippie my chippie

bright sunlight this morning
coming home I leave the pond flats
almost turning in
you run gaily out across the road
right in front of me
from the gap in my fence that
all you chippies race along
and drive the dogs mad
(stop oh stop go faster)
fast but not fast enough
a tiny thump small pebble sound
(oh no oh no oh no)
one of my own maddening
sleek sloe eyed chippies
and come back fast to get you
I know your markings
pale backed curious explorer
(tears flow helpless geysers of regret)
only a glancing blow
no crow carrion not today
you are part of this place
I gather your warm soft body
(the child inside my heart wails
oh no chippie why why oh why)
with a poachers spade dig a hole
by the door it needs a guard
now that is you safe soft shrouded
under a small river rock cairn here in eden
(I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so sorry, I loved you)