crazy quilt

The Quiet of the Crescent Moon

Pieced together in cobalt and lilac,
squares of crazy quilted sky fill in scraps of the day,
stitched with sharp needles of stars and comet tails,
held in place by old oaks outstretched arms,
reaching up until the twilight is pinned,
hemmed and skirted by dusk and sweet dreams.
Receding day spills across the western ridge
to get swept into the corners of night.

(revision)

what is a wristwatch to an oak tree

oak tassels

The sun is rising farther to the south
inching each day to the true east
to the equinox.
Gnomon,
the one who knows,
his shadow casts the lengthening light across
the figured stylus
away from numbers and chimes
but into nature’s time.

Time is not linear
but round,
a spiraling cycle of sun and moon.
Persephone’s choice
of resurrection and renewal,
rising from the withered vine
to abundant grape and glory
only to wither again.
Modern time is only a construct of conceit-
man controlling his minutes and hours
each tied to his wrist
or tucked into his vest pocket
to be worshiped
or rebuffed
or excoriated
until his final breath.
But the old oaks stand,
unhurried by the numbers and chimes,
moved only by the moon’s tides
and the sun’s chariot travels
from light into light into light.

(revision)

The hummingbirds are back…

It seemed we were going to have a year without hummingbirds but…. yesterday and today we have been swarmed with fledglings. Still not as many as years past but no matter, any hummingbird is a joy.

This video was taken last summer. And today for the first time this season, our feeder is teeming with these tiny jeweled wonders.

I hope your morning is filled with beauty and joy too.

can you name the four chambers-

of the hummingbird’s heart?-

rainforest, emerald, hibiscus and ruby.

Letting Go

June dawn

‘She let go.

She let go. Without a thought or a word, she let go.

She let go of the fear.

She let go of the judgments.

She let go of the confluence of opinions swarming around her head.

She let go of the committee of indecision within her.

She let go of all the ‘right’ reasons.

Wholly and completely, without hesitation or worry, she just let go.

She didn’t ask anyone for advice.

She didn’t read a book on how to let go.

She didn’t search the scriptures.

She just let go.

She let go of all of the memories that held her back.

She let go of all of the anxiety that kept her from moving forward.

She let go of the planning and all of the calculations about how to do it just right.

She didn’t promise to let go.

She didn’t journal about it.

She didn’t write the projected date in her Day-Timer.

She made no public announcement and put no ad in the paper.

She didn’t check the weather report or read her daily horoscope.

She just let go.

She didn’t analyze whether she should let go.

She didn’t call her friends to discuss the matter.

She didn’t do a five-step Spiritual Mind Treatment.

She didn’t call the prayer line.

She didn’t utter one word.

She just let go.

No one was around when it happened.

There was no applause or congratulations.

No one thanked her or praised her.

No one noticed a thing.

Like a leaf falling from a tree, she just let go.

There was no effort.

There was no struggle.

It wasn’t good and it wasn’t bad.

It was what it was, and it is just that.

In the space of letting go, she let it all be.

A small smile came over her face.

A light breeze blew through her. And the sun and the moon shone forevermore…’

-Rev Safire Rose

 

Household God

Daddy and the aunts

You were a household god,
Not a faraway god in heaven’s vault
But a jovial Jove
Full of life and power.
I sprang from your forehead,
Not fully Athena
But to become Wisdom
And Responsible
And Chosen.
Your ego was Olympian,
Thunderbolts would fly from your fury,
Then all Justice and Mercy.
A bacchanalian god–
Wine flowing as we danced in the kitchen.
I worshiped at your feet
When you lay mortally wounded,
Your life your Achilles heel.
I worship you still
With the laughing spirit you are
Now and forever. Amen.

 

*** For my dad, John L. Gresham on Fathers Day. This is a poem I wrote after his death in 1994 and the photograph was taken just not a year before with his three sisters. I love this picture of them laughing together, each with such a distinctive voice and laugh. He was the adored baby brother of three sisters and his children adored him as well.

Happy Fathers Day, Daddy. I love and miss you each day.

A June Morning

hydrangeas 2016hydrangeas 2 2016hydrangeas 3 2016morning clouds smooth out the blued eyed sky
shaking out the nights wrinkled sheets of stars
and wandering constellations
lifting the heavy white curtains
of fragrant lilies
sending their fresh washed scent
across the dawning day
humid haze catches the mist
and the swallows hovering over the still water
in the summer meadow
dew spangled webs
glisten in the crystal light
soon invisible
the magic of a summer morninghydrangea