Slant of Light

Late in the afternoon
a favorite slant of light
It tickles the firethorn
invites sunflowers to turn
shifts jasmine’s white to cream
dusts everything with gold
Why do poems demand the dawn?

My body wants to sleep 
yet fingers claim the keys
Silence wakes my genie
she swigged that slant of light
kindling an inner fire
that pleads for air
Write it write it 
now write it now

Bridge 

An elegant try

We lost ourselves—forgot 
what we’re made of 

It’s messy 
the cosmos showcasing 
chaos     societies 
inside-out in a heartbeat     
I weep and rail 
for our cobalt home

Then shift to look 
for wonder
flaming California
poppies, the bounding 
whippet     flash of emerald 
at a hummer’s throat 
my friend’s clear heart
and always, always 
grace

Not the Way I Want It 

At 6:30 a.m. I down
my pills with food   sit
then wait
they do kick in
eventually
over an hour
I draw or read

Then with a cane 
I can walk
slowly, with care
shower, dress
choose my favorite
necklace

Medication every
six hours alters
my mind
lines for poems
slower, different,
paints untouched
too bright
for the way I feel

Beneath,
stubborn gratefulness
and grit
Not the way I want it
yet the way it is
for now

Unclench my Mind

Anxiety and daymares
of what might be
oh, the tangle of mind!
It took years to see
through it—and still
it sets snares
leaps from the corner
clamps on my throat
makes up stories
and takes me down

Unclench my mind
I’m scaring myself
Feel the confusion
draw it close
breathe it in, soften  
my heart-thrumming body
I'll consider this—
Maybe all is well

The Body Consort 

She’s been with me for 
29,510 energetic days— 
she’s slouchy about the edges
bent here, broken there
a taken-for-granted friend

I’m beholden to her— 
she’s overused, yet ferried
me here—for decades 
she was treated like a 
beat-up truck rather than 
the marvel I now know 
her to be—oh! to go back 
eight decades 
re-frame how I dance

But no second chances
and no time for regrets
go gentle—most of all 
in thought—and remember
she is my body consort

with thanks to Kay Crista for the title 

Trust
trust in God and tie your camel—old Sufi saying

Faith and trust are not 
enough—you are asked to greet
your end of the contract,
the earthly end
Tend the farm
pay your bills
love one another
Remember to be kind
you have no idea
what’s going on  
in that rude driver’s day

This Embodiment Business

I am a condensation
a blaze of light
if I look for myself
it’s easier to stay awake
than awaken from trance

Unflinching
I stand square
allow my world
to turn inside out
a breathing Möbius strip—
unfolding has its own
propulsion and will not stop 

Truth requires all 
yearnings, attachments
and misunderstandings
to be seen through
and unbound

Then enters
the marrow of love

First Rain  

Powder-tinder,  
lightning storms 
with no rain    one flick 
of a smoldering butt

Early here, unexpected
just a sprinkling
yet hope of El Niño
at year’s turn

life’s choreography
skirting the edge
between enough
and too much

A Thousand Miles 

A tiny chill
the flowers know
Orioles have left
flying singly at night
a thousand miles
south

Sunflowers settle 
facing east
some heads now bowing 
make seed    squirrels 
fatten on their oil
Other blooms 
remain upright

Males flew ahead
Their mates linger
basking in the last heat
Now—bright birds

your oriole blaze
has flown
a tender grief remains
'til spring

Offerings

Quiet 

Home retreat   
feeding ourselves
empty calendar
deep-hearted friends

steady rain 
welcome backdrop
despite the downpour
birds busy at feeders 

Two hawks appear
we pull out bird guides    
not red-tailed,
red-shouldered—
Sibley’s decides

They screech and pose,
one a bare apple branch
the other atop a post
even at rest 
their power
presence shines

Next meditation:
physical objects arise in space
in what does space arise?

Events arise in time
in what does time arise?

No Better Work 

When the weight
of being 
feels
too heavy

drop
into the well
listen    absorb 
abide

savor and 
accept 
the hard bits
discovered 

in the abyss
of yourself
Befriend and
cherish the good

Weep if you can

Wild Mystery 
1953

Legs frail and askew
she lay by the road
a lone carcass, 
white-spotted hide
her unseeing eyes
skyward     I quavered,  
no bigger than she,
asked, 
Where is her mommy?

My dad shook his head
Nothing to be done
it’s dead 

Later, I pestered my mom,
Why we are here?
Where will she go?
Each time she shrugged
sent me to play—again
Fear clawed
why won’t she say?

Seventy years later, 
I slipped into the mystery
still, wonder lingers

Minefield  

Are you ready to come 
out of the cave? Had
enough of drowning?

The mind has claws,
ties your view into knots
drags you under 
the weight of stones

You know this mind
it perseverates, 
steals sleep 
tangles intention

Set it down
that gnarl will not undo
use powerful strokes
to swim away— 
minefield mind, a drag
on vigor and time

Fault Lines 

Brush by delicate brush
I uncover the skeleton
Only four years old
it carved fault lines 
in who I might become
cautious instead of creative

Every touch leaves signs
elephants snap limbs,
monks arouse hearts 
with their clarity,
soldiers blast cities to rubble,
each singular action shifts 
the bones of our world

Pick petals from the daisy
it matters, it doesn’t matter
it matters, it doesn’t 
both are holy true
Meet the long ago 
metabolize and mend 
admire fault lines everywhere
trace with care and gold

What Have We Done?

A mama, twin fawns
black-tailed deer ambling 
up the two-lane 
well-trafficked road
cars trailing behind
  
Three fields 
they used to graze
gone 
taken to house humans
or fence in dogs

but where now    
wild deer?

Testament  

Amidst the deepest ache
and throbbing twinge, stars
still bestow their grace— 

Even in pain, she stalks 
the thread of love
that nourishing wine

And why would she not?
the earth still spins
it orbits the sun, not her

Rest

I need rest… 
in the placeless place, 
prior,
where this splendid, messy 
chaos called life erupts

To let the background—
that big field of knowing 
behind all manifest things— 
slip into my mind’s foreground 
filling it to spillover

May I rest in its caress,
a hammock, a porch swing,
a safety net
I surrender to the sway
that smooths and soothes 
my disquiet and concern

Undivided

We see ten thousand 
things, hear and touch
sense and smell them  
convinced of our autonomy— 

how can this dense table 
not be separate
from my soft body?

How can that person—who
has contrasting views
different skin, language 
or belief—how is it
possible we are one?

You can’t survive without air 
days with no water, we die 
Without sunlight, no harvest— 
we count on farmers to  
sow our sustenance

Interbeing is boundless
lions need gazelle, plants 
require pollinators or wind
   
All born of consciousness
one family
undivided

Home from the Hospital
Mid-September, 1974

Congestive heart failure
ventricular septal defect
cardiac catheterization
ten days on the edge
then hospital diarrhea 
so often fatal
Bird close to death
At five pounds
taken off all milk
whiskey nipple, instead

Finally at home
tiny Bird is different
a mother knows

then I remember
the cardiologist
overheard
muttering to the nurse
during catheterization
these babies
often suffer strokes

Charting the Maze with Grace  

A dense yew hedge
designed to confound 
eight feet tall, raven-green
a braid-maze
no blind alleys

green—
the grassy ground
the walls    the walls
only backward    forward
look up
sullen sky

ninth time 
your call is important to us
the walls 
the walls 
please hold
ground tilts
thin breath   jaw tight

Dr. Dhal’s office
a human voice
Hello, I say,
I'd like to schedule,
but first 
how is your day?