under the breath
and soft cursing
“Where is that water coming from?”
*** Our friend, Pete, is installing a dishwasher for us today. I am lending quiet presence and moral support! The photo is Pete in a happier mood, playing guitar and singing.
dawn streaks the sky
with shocking pink and deep purple
decorating the icy cove
with newly born color
As the old year slinks away into the night,
I will throw my shoes at its shadow.
Shaking the dusty months from my clothes,
I will wear my cap and shirt inside out
So the old minutes and seconds can’t cling
Like a bad smell.
I will salt the earth where the previous days
Stretched on and on,
Assuring they will not
Follow me into the new year.
When the New Years Eve bonfire is burning,
I will gather the bitter herbs
And walk counter clock wise into the previous moments,
Casting the hated bouquet into the flame
Leaving its acrid taste behind
With the smell of its grief and sorrow.
Only then will I wreath my head with four leaf clovers,
Fill my pockets with new pennies
And my trunks with rabbit’s feet and horseshoes
And walk bravely into the coming year.
Head held high and with cheerful optimism,
I will greet the new day.
** an old poem but always a good reminder to leave the past in the past and move into the new year with hope and positive expectations.
I will if you will!
Happy New Year, my friend. May it be filled with wonder and delight.
She readies things.
Tidying up the basement with its canned fruit
And bleach bottles and water gallons,
Wondering if there are enough beans and rice to face the on-coming days.
She always hoped that she would be
One of the chosen, the lucky ones
Who rose bodily, clothed in the washed blood –
Snatched into Heaven straight away
Not left to fend for herself with whatever demons remained.
She worried for her people, those that believed and those that didn’t.
But with the new age coming,
She just had to do what she could.
The kings of the north and south are rising
Just like the prophet said
And the moon had turned dark and bloodied just this summer.
And now the promise land was made whole-
What other portents did you need?
Surely he is the one, the one the brothers have preached about,
The one that will bring about the second coming-
He who carries the seven seals and the demons possessed-
She had heard all those stories, all those reports of the end of the age
And now it was here.
Taking the pie from the oven, nothing left to do,
she wipes the counter and washes out the sink
And sits dressed in her Sunday best
Waiting for the angel to come to call.
I am somewhat at loose ends
having decided to let God be God
and stop trying to keep gravity in place-
it was so tiring after all.
So now with so much time on my hands
I have taken up sitting and thinking,
letting the world flow thru my hands
resolving itself into the distant horizon
and the flight of starlings.
It will take some time for the tension
to release in my hands and shoulders-
time enough to re-learn to hold you,
to break open my heart
and make room in the inn.
“Into this world,
this demented inn,
where there is absolutely no room for him at all,
— Thomas Merton
Turning off the news
I walk down the path to the waters edge
(Despairing angels weep at every fence post)
The cold wind whips the water into a froth against the gray stony bank
(Where is He in all of this?)
Autumns landscape has changed to winter
(Pray for us now)
The world, hard and cold, in its fallow season
(And at the hour of our death)
I toss pieces of bread to the small wild ducks
(Peace be with you)
As they sail away,
(and also with you)
I turn toward home.
I wish you and yours all things merry and bright!