in your trembling hands

October evening 2

oh! how full of love
is the world-
our minds sometimes won’t let it just be
quiet and rested
in that knowledge.

But oh yes! that love-
even in the disquiet of our times
even in the anger and hate
and disloyalty, even
in the sadness and grief-
be sure
that that Love is there.

and if you can be very still
for just a moment
you can sense it
and hold it in your trembling hands.

hold it, even tear soaked and weak,
hold it there in
your trembling hands.

paper cranes

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.

*** For Hiroshima Day of Remembrance, a poem written several years ago.

yours as always

Sweet peas

dear one
the lane is swept clean of the sweet pears petals
now the small dog and I will rest
the angels will arrive soon
all is well and as it should be
yours
as always

dear one
clouds billow and jostle across the brow of the ridge
the baker had only the sweetest loaves on the counter
tea will be ready soon
all is well and as it should be
yours
as always

dear one
this morning, the cat knock over the cream
lapping it from the sunbeam pooled on the kitchen floor
all is well and as it should be
yours
as always

dear one
the angels came and rested awhile
the sweet peas are in bloom again this year
all is well and as it should be
yours
as always
with love

Words that rhyme with waning – a poem that started as one thing and ended up another

Golden moonlight  Jan 2014

The feigning moon
Hiding behind the hedge
Cocks her head as though to run down the alley
Suddenly
Leaping to the top of the old oak
She winks and smiles

The seining moon
Scoops up fistfuls of stars
Letting the waters flow through her fingertips
And into the ocean sky

The reigning moon
Crowned with comets
And sparkling diadem
Deigns look down from her sapphire throne
To our upturned faces
Where we are held rapt
And moondrunk

words that rhyme with waning part 2

I decided to write a silly poem about the moon
But your name kept coming up in conversation and with it
the way the moon looked that night
And the way the air moved with the trees
As though they had secrets to keep
There is nothing really that rhymes with the waning moon
Nothing that I can think of except that it sometimes rhymes with the snow
And sometimes with the way your blues eyes capture the moment like a polaroid camera
How is it that I have lived all these years and didn’t know
that shaking those pictures didn’t make the image appear any quicker
My impatience to see what I had just seen
To record it somehow so that it will be clearer
that waxing and waning are still metaphors
And my hair is still silver in the soft white light of the April Egg moon