There is so much goodness

Receding fog on the cove

There is so much goodness
In a warm sunny afternoon on winters ebb.
Its warmth caresses my aching joints
And eases too, my hearts grief-
Not that the grief is gone-
But a cold dreary winters day
Reflects my grief
Back on itself, a sad and tarnished mirror.

A sunny February afternoon,
When the promise of spring looks to be real
(A promise made that will be kept not broken)
It whispers to me that this is life-
That my father died after the winter,
That my mother died after the winter,
That I may die after a winter,
And then my children and their children
Will each die.

Maybe on a soft spring day,
maybe not.

But each February there will be a warm afternoon,
solitary and splendid.
And life will seem easier somehow
And the heart lighter.

And that will be enough
Until April comes.

The Moon Makes Me Laugh

November moon
The moon makes me laugh.
Her face pink-gold with exertion
Pushing past the horizon,
Filling the constellations,
To rise in her nights journey.
As she climbs, she prays
in the voice of my mother,
“I see the moon, the moon sees me.
God bless the moon and God bless me.”

The moon makes me laugh.
Her bright face silver with light,
Gracefully easing into space,
Moving in celestial dance.
As she rises, she sings
In the voice of my father,
“Don’t the moon look lonesome,
shining through the trees.
Don’t the moon look lonesome,
when your baby packs up to leave.”
The moon makes me laugh.

From the dark bedroom
My sleepy voiced husband calls,
What are ya’ll doing? Come to bed.
We can’t, I answer.
We have moon sickness.
As the dogs and I moon-bathe,
Naked on the back porch.

*** this is a poem written a long time ago But I thought with the lovely moon this weekend, I would dust it off and share it again.
The lyrics are from
Sent For You Yesterday by William Count Basie, Eddie Durham and James Rushing. Warner Bros Music, publisher.

A Journey of (re) creation- part 3 or so

http://www.tablerocklakehomesearch.com/listing/mlsid/392/propertyid/60063251/

We are selling our home.

It is the place we came to after leaving our wonderful ‘last really good shack’. A house brought to us by an angel and we have loved it for more than 14 years.

We built Mom’s apartment onto the den in 2005 and she lived happily with us for 11 years. It has been a joy and blessing to us.

Now it is time to move on. Find a new adventure. Re-create our lives once again.

So, if you know anyone who would love a great lakehouse on Table Rock Lake in southwest Missouri, I know just the place.

And, of course, I will keep you posted.

Thank you, my dear friends,
Kathleen

paper cranes

Feb morning sky

The path folds into itself,
an origami of leaf mold and gravel.
Its edges drift into stiff hedges of
deep dried grass,
shifting ever so slightly in the spring breeze-
fluttering like paper,
paper cranes,
that fold their wings
and unfurl to fly.

Someone, once, folded a thousand cranes,
a symbol of peace or redemption or grace,
I forget which.
These cranes took flight
and flew with ibis and stork,
heron and egret,
until the fragile paper wings drifted slowly,
silently
into the flame,
consumed.

All that was left
was an origami of ash,
for me to shovel into the garden
and work into the soil
to feed the roots
and nourish our souls,
with peace or redemption
or grace.

Weather Forecast

Rainy Nov morning

Dawn drifts over the ridge
Into the deep grayness of fog.
Reluctantly the sun
Relinquishes the day
As the light moves
From shadow to shade,
Stripping color from prism’d palette
Revealing only gray scale.
In the murky afternoon,
Dusk extinguishes
The last frail lamp
And night returns to night.

Succumbing to the weather,
Misery has its own forecast.

The January Thaw – Ten Word Poems

jan morning 2015

dawn,
her cheeks blushing
as the sky reflects her beauty

stretching,
old oaks mutter,
dreaming april dreams
warm winters day

scent of damp, leaf mold
and earthworms-
the january thaw

from the gray morning cove,
mists rise
on heron wings

with warm wings and song,
clouds of small sparrows
rise

shivering,
the bare boned willows
fill their branches
with sparrows

pale moon
slips into the light
of the morning sky

A New Day

Sunset before new years eve 2011

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.

*** It is with a bit of trepidation I enter the new year, but I am putting on a brave face and holding my chin up and saying ‘Happy New Year to us all! May 2017 be a year of goodness and mercy for us all.’