when will this madness end

Its all or nothing with you
as I watch you tear down the structures
that have captivated you for so long.
Pulling apart the seams
and rending the fabric
of the garment we have patched
and mended for oh these many years.

It is a changeable time and the east wind has done its work
turning everyones inner world topsy turvy.
How long will this breeze blow and when will the dust settle
to show a clear view of the remnants left
to weave and quilt and patch together
enough to bring us comfort and warmth
on a cold winters day.

waiting for the house to sell

I dreamt-
I was in a small boat on a river,
The water swift and clear
But my little boat and I
Are still-
Steady in the rushing current.

I watch the waters flowing past
Without me and my small vessel.
We are left
As if moored
Or caught on a hidden shoal.

How quickly the days have sped.
Already a year nearly gone
And I remain
Here, unmoved,
Waiting for the tide to rush to lift my boat
And propel me forward into life.

East Wind

October evening 2

An unexpected change-
a wind from the east
bringing the scent of lake
and sweet grass
and summers ending.

The meadow grasses ripen
golden tassels of seed
sway in the breeze,
bowing to the west
and the hunger
of summers waning
and tiny finches.

August, the month of lengthening shadows
and eastern winds,
the month of fields
golden and heavy with harvest.
August,
the month of summers waning
and all that entails.

Sitting on the porch
as the eastern wind
rings through the old chimes
a new tune,
I find myself singing
in harmony with the changing winds.

(revision)

Open

Cleaning out closets and desk drawers,
memories piled deep on the floor,
boxes of paper
are brought to the fire
with the satisfaction of flame
burning away years
of struggle.

Rising from the ash
a new idea

of self
of future
of now.

Beloved children, coming to terms with change
with tears and unnamed presumptions
then tentatively beginning
to ask
the right questions.

I release the past

and present my heart
with a new sign –

‘Open’

the idea of change and how to respond

Take the idea of change.
Hold it tenderly in your hands.
Place it in the pocket of your coat.

Then, in the midst of your day,
Reach into your pocket and pluck a leaf-
Rub it between your fingers
To release its scent,
Maybe take a taste
To see if its bitter or sweet.

Resist the urge
To remove the whole thing
And fling it into the river.

No, hold steady.

Let change send its tender roots
Deep into your life,
Allow its gentle tendrils
To grow and wrap around your mind.

Let change be what it needs to be
And become
What you need to become.

old stone wall

Stone wall

Great gray stones leave the bank of the river,
stacked with their brethren
between the old cedar trees.
One upon one,
they stand together, shoulder
to shoulder
in deep, masculine force.

Over decades, they settle.
Some, restless, move again
toward the river.
Most hold fast, remembering
their task.

Until, one morning
after the first spring storm of April,
in Springs push
for more,
the old stone wall shudders,
and with a deep sigh,
gives way.
Cedar and stone

*** We went out after the last storm and our old rock wall had fallen. The chipmunks had loosened the soil, giving the rain a place to wash out behind the stones. And it just gave way.
We will restack and make it whole again, but who knows how long ago those stones had been carted up from the river and stacked with their brethren.

in the pond

in the pond, I saw
ribbons glistening with fragile
black polka dots of life
unspooled
as though a special present
was joyfully torn open
and the wrappings left
to fend for themselves
lovely elegant skeins
filled with the future
ink dotted children
black comma’ed offspring
creatures of water and air
neither fish nor fowl
born to one elemental force
alive in the gullied water
finding legs within
to leap to the essential element
air lunged full
in the oxygen sky
blue green
tree filled world
of moss, mud and marsh
tiny metamorphic saints of change
chanting in the afternoon rain