Spring Fires

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The clouds in the east

are only a false promise of rain today,

but the jasmine has begun to bloom outside my door,

and above, the intense pale green

of emerging leaves graces the tree.

There is a hint of grass smoke

from the spring fires burning in the hills,

and an unseen wren is singing a sweet song,

“Where is love, where is love – surely not far away”,

waiting for the drought to end.

 

5/19/17

Small Storm

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A small storm rages in the dead of night

Not tearing at the limbs of trees in the darkness

Not raging in the swirling sky above

But within these compound walls

Of stone and skin

In a windowless room

Unseen Un-named uncategorized

An unknown tumult

In a wordless dream

In an unbound stream

I wrap my spindly arms about these howling winds

And bow deep into the spiral eye to see

The quiet peace The invisible heart

In the loving protection of your outstretched fingers

In your open hand

Before the sun has risen.

 

5/28/17

Now That You Are Free

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For my friend, Weldon McFadden

Now that you are free

and the distance between stars

has become less than a hair’s breadth

and all of time

has been reduced to a single eternal instance.

Now that you have acquired

the ability to whisper

into the dreams and imaginations

of all those who have shared your life.

I hear the echos of your laughter

traversing the universe,

as all your fears, your burdens,

your limitations and your sufferings

are transmuted into mirth and joy

upon your return to the heart of all creation.

Thank you for the blessing you have been,

for the many gifts of love you have given us

that have lifted the hearts of all who knew you

and brought smiles to our days.

Guide us now, dear friend,

Now that you are able,

that we might follow you

into that sweet place

of abandon and utter delight again..

Now that you are free.

9/18/16

Tormenta Tropical

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Whip and slash.

Dribble and swoosh..

The storm washes.

cleanses, erases,

Purifies,

Opens the sky to new possibilities.

Each little death,

Carries us to the next moment.

Each moment could be the last.

A tree is down.

Power lines tense and sag.

Grass swirls. and matts.

Leaves glisten and shake and swirl away.

On the beach,

Each new wave defeats the last,

As always,

Doing.

To be is to do.

To do is to be.

Waving.

Sitting inside, waiting,

Breathing,

Heart beating

with each new gust.

I storm, motionlessly

From the center of all that is,

with each new birth………

as

Rivulets run down windows

Walls tremble in the wind,

In the consuming darkness,

the rain continues to fall………..

Soon,

It will be over.

9/5/16

Morning Tableau Vivant

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Light flickers across the dirty tablecloth

filtered through water and leaves suspended in air moving

as the sun rises from behind the mountains of the east.

Romeo and I sit behind the window,

awakening slowly to the beat and the heat

of chachalaca wings drumming from tree to bush,

recently up from the depths,

cackling earth-mother-in-law songs,

tales of the brood,

that twine in the vapor of freshly poured coffee,

as yet, too hot to sip.

The summer grasses tingle in the crystalline breeze outside,

becoming rapidly overwhelmed by the day’s spread,

oblivious to all our thoughts and regrets of the past,

all our intentions and worries for the future.

A dove coos from somewhere distant.

A gecko flits across the aperture and catches a tired moth.

Romeo, lays in my lap, eyes reflecting mine,

and touches my lips with a flick of his little dog tongue,

proclaiming love to be more important than anything

and always just enough,

dissipating all those ancient dreams

left in the darkness

crumbling beneath the feet of the dawn,

leaving only what is

waiting on the step outside the door

of the next breath.

8/23/16

Invisible Thread

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They are not wolves,

or coyotes or jackles

with their long histories in the natural world.

A terrier or a spaniel or a hound

really has no home in that much larger place,

at least not in their present, modified form.

A wolf belongs.

He has his purpose within an ecological system,

the wilderness from which he was born,

his connection is clearly written

in the spirals.

But for dogs,

like the humans that breed them,

that link has all but vanished

and the wild place from which we emerged

thousands of years ago

has become a foreign country.

Perhaps then,

that is why we both,

even though we are of different species,

seek one another out,

cling to one another,

care for one another,

and love one another.

Perhaps

that is also why,

some of us

seek God or solace

in the untamed, uncorrupted places of the world,

far from the complications of the crowd,

to heal, when we have been emotionally wounded,

or have been somehow cut off from others

whether as a result of our own foolishness and confusion,

the designs of others,

simple happenstance,

or the inevibility of death.

Perhaps,

it’s because when we are alone,

when we feel our smallness in the universe

and our separateness from nature so intensely,

or when we look within

in the solitude of meditation,

that we can also feel the unseen connection,

no matter how distant,

between one human and another,

you and I,

family, clan, friends

or with another animal,

or God, or nature,

or all that is more than ourselves.

Because our need for love,

is so great,

so strong,

that to live without that connection,

even with a small dog,

who shares that same need

for that same tender, invisible thread,

……is simply unbearable