Pebbles

the wind in pine tops
does sound like sea

so we stretch like sunbathers
on a broad fallen log

while trees reach cone-crowned into blue
day wave-washes over

sun and time tumble
our jagged parts smooth

Camping in North Texas

here we celebrate small
seasons, breath
between freeze and swelter
prickly pear paddles grown
green, fringed, wind
whipped up from the lake
verbena, butterfly-winged

the sunset

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a poetic exercise in wanderlust
painstakingly blending
red, purple, garden thyme
to reflect fields of splendor
a cup of summer water

The last page of my yes-words journal. Pasting in hard copies of the poems…then what should I do with it?

june pond

water flat calm, brown
still, winter’s pure opposite—
a heron, wading

contemplation 6

to hang up my hang-ups
my why-am-i-heres, not-good-enoughs,
not-determined-enoughs and why
would the world need more dreamers

we talk and you keep asking, but
could you get a job with that? how
many ways to sell my heart, make it more
marketable? i’m hanging up your doubts

alongside mine and hope
i will be less inclined to explode
if i pin on this belief: here is also a way
of being content

Inspired by Hafiz, “A Coat Rack,” translated by Daniel Ladinsky

contemplation 5: so that you can

it is not that kind of exchange—
skill for skill, love for thanks

or even one small word of appreciation.
if we were all the little teapots

of the world—handle, spout,
bowl—we’d know

we were made to be held,
receive, pour

Inspired by Hafiz, “Energy in Sounds,” translated by Daniel Ladinsky

contemplation 3

and had my soul chosen another body—
say, some minor medieval queen
who could hide volumes of overindulgence

beneath the armor of silky wool gown
or high headdress, who could stand
in stone tower, warm enough, overlooking sun-
swept river strewn pink with bloom

without sneezing at birch pollen—
it could therefore have fresh cherries
to tongue’s and heart’s content

A fluffy little fantasy inspired by recently discovered allergies plus Hafiz, “Maybe One Like a Water Buffalo,” translated by Daniel Ladinsky.

“Your soul could have chosen a different kind
of body…”

late may

on this rain-drip day
goldfinches, summer-plumed, dart
sweet song and sunbolts

may pond, 2&3

17 may

which will I remember for you—
grass-grown gravel track away
from constant surge and pass of cars
in bright sunshine; eight ducklings
tumbling in still water beneath the bank;
willow’s huge grateful shade; one tractor
loud-plowing this last possible acre
among apartments, hospital, shopping mall

*

18 may

all ducklings aground
in hidden huddled shelter;
gust-ruffled water

may pond

someone has decreed:
the fountain stays on
goslings hatched, I find
I missed a month of purple
blossom rained down
now we’re serious
about greenleafing