Today is a catching day

Gift in the inbox. Sometimes I see them. Sometimes I don't.

Sometimes a new perspective

is shot 

over the bow.

I reach out

Catch the bullet

As it flies.

Today is a catching day.

Some days

They fly right past.

Today is a catching day.

I reach up

Find the bullet

Hot in my hand.

I toss it

Hand to hand

Until it is cool enough

To look at.

Morning sun

The kitten adores the older cat. He must know "something" about "cat-ness." It's like watching a younger sibling with an older one. She trails behind him, plays with his tail. This morning she considers he may know something about sleeping in the sun. She gives it a try.

She sees him in his patch

Of morning sun,"

Wonders

Whether this

Is what cats do:

Sleep

In the morning sun,

Take endless breaks

From activity,

To rest up

For the next round.

She closes her kitten eyes

And waits.

Give your angels charge over those who sleep

Part five of the bedtime prayer.

We all take turns

As angels,

Taking charge

Over those who sleep.

No wings:

Just hands

And eyes

And ears.

Sometimes even feet

To bear us

To the caring place.

The kitten is sound asleep

On my chest.

Today I am angel

To a one pound calico kitten.

Vacation

Vacation without a catbox. Hooray.

The kitten will not

Go on vacation

With us.

The kitten gets a vacation

Of her own.

As does the older cat.

As does the turtle.

I am ready

For time away,

Time to sleep

Time to write

Time to learn a little

Non-stress yoga

Without a catbox.

Quiet with kitten

One of those days. The daughter is home from camp counseling. The cats are in afternoon position. So am I.

Quiet with kitten

A bottle of water

Possibly a nap

A ride scheduled for later.

Quiet

Rumble-purr

On my chest

Light as,

Well,

Light as a kitten,

Sound asleep.

Weep this night

Joy does come in the morning, but, it seems to me, it is flavored by sorrow.

Weeping

They say

May spend the night

But morning comes.

Morning always comes

Somehow

Somewhere.

It does not erase

The weeping

No

The weeping is woven in

To the morning

It brings its own flavor,

Its saltiness,

Sometimes even a bite

Of coriander,

A tang of citrus

To flavor the morning.

Weeping

May indeed spend the night

But the morning

Does not deny it.

The morning

Claims it.

Sent

I am a Minnesota girl. My brother coined the phrase "small comfort food," for the meals of our childhood. We learned not to expect too much. In my later adult years, I find people who are seeking "enough-ness" in their life. I have them as friends. I have them as clients. I find them hiding out in the unlikeliest of places. It seems these people are sent so we can help each other find, not just enough-ness, but also, maybe, abundance.

God sends me the folk

Who are in the process of

Finding enough-ness.

Mindfulness

Almost a haiku day. Attending a service today for one of the saints. Wearing my collar in his honor. Rest in peace, rise in glory, Bob.

Mindfulness:

It’s all the rage these days but

More often the calm.

Confession

What's in a name? A lot.

I have not been kind

To the weeds in my yard.

They all have names.

I have not bothered

To learn them.

Instead I have lumped them

Into the category

Of things

Which must be pulled,

Which must be removed,

So other named plants

May flourish.

This year my yard is full

Of unnamed weeds

A rich variety

Of weeds

With a scattering of intentional

Named plantings.

I have not been kind

To the weeds.

I have not learned their names.

This week I was introduced

To Creeping Charlie

He has a rather delightful way

Of tendrilling through the grass,

Anchoring his way with rootlets.

I have not been kind.

I will be kinder.

I will learn more names

As I go.

My chicory

I spent a long time yesterday trying to identify that roadside blue. Like most things, turns out "my chicory" doesn't look like the models. Well then, neither do I. 

My chicory is more ragged

Than the prettied up pictures

In the book.

The pictures hold the ideal chicory

The model chicory

The chicory made up

With the nature picture version

Of stage make-up:

The strategic dewdrop

The correct lighting.

No wonder I couldn’t figure

My chicory

From the pictures.

Let it grow

I often leave the radio off when I'm driving. Some of my best prayer time is in the car. Today the roadside was in full bloom... a beautiful sight. My backyard is a tangle of Creeping Charlie. The pots I never planted this year have sprouted latent purple petunias.

In the quiet of the car

The queen anne’s lace

The blue and yellow flowers

I have not identified

Wave to me

From the unmown edges

Of the road.

Do not mow.

Do not mow.

Do not mow.

There used to be signs

Specific signs

They declared these flowers

Off limits.

Now they seem

To be left on their own

To wave

Proclaim white and blue and yellow

In unplanted swathes,

In unmown patches.

Let it grow

Let it grow

Let it grow

Watch from the edges

What emerges.

Small kitten

I believe there may be an ulterior motive to our daughter not finding a home (other than ours) for that last kitten. She may deny it, of course. She may also deny being in cahoots with her older brother.

Grandchildren may not yet

Be in the picture but here

Is a small kitten.

Meditation (with kitten)

Quiet time has changed. It may never be the same.

She loves the older cat’s tail.

She loves the possibility

Of my coffee cup.

She loves getting stuck in places

She cannot get out of.

She climbs on me

The older cat watches

A glint of amusement

In his eye.

No

It is not time for a nap.

No.

Not yet.

No.

Maybe not ever.

Oh

There’s the tail.

She forgot.

I watch,

A glint of amusement

In my eye.

His turn.

Same stories

I wonder about Jesus and all the stories he told. Did his disciples listen to the birds instead? When he said "Consider the lilies"... Did they get lost in considering the lilies and miss the rest of the story?

A friend shares the same stories

Time and again

Oh that one

I think

Oh that one

Again.

Too often I tune my ears

To hear the cardinals

Or even the hum

Of the air conditioner

Instead.

Sometimes I waken

At the tail end

Of that familiar story.

I think

Now that

That

Is so appropriate,

The perfect illustration.

That is the exact right story

For this situation.

I wish I’d heard it again

From the very beginning.

Saliva

Quite a week. So much so, that most mornings I had no time to write. So I offer a haiku to get back in the swing of things. Our saliva can now be used to help us see some parts of our ancestry, so we know where to look. Our saliva can be used to figure out which medications are more likely to work, which ones tweaked, and which ones are probably a no-go. I consider where to send my saliva, and how much I really want to know.

Our inner workings

Can be labelled in part, with

A swab inside our cheek.

Twelve hours

I knew yesterday would be full. It was. Good full. I went to bed at ten, and woke up at ten. Rested. I understand cats sleep, in some way, at least twenty hours a day. The old cat is sound asleep in the sun. The kitten is sound asleep in the guest room. We will introduce the two this weekend.

Twelve hours.

I slept twelve hours

Last night.

Woke up to find

This same lovely world.

There are two clients

On the roster

Today,

Five hours apart.

What professional in her right mind

Would schedule like this?

Me.

Oh the things I can do

In between.

Today promises full

Hmm. Three clients, one new. Two cats. Full day.

Today promises full.

I realize as I begin,

I only count the things

On the calendar,

Appointments and initials

I have written

On the square

That is July 14.

Then there is the kitten,

Still a guest

In a room of her own.

Then there is the older cat.

He lies strategically

Between our bedroom

And the guestroom,

Sprawled like a king.

Today promises full.

Kitten

So many places to hide in the guest room. It's lovely for a kitten waiting to get checked out. She is one pound, with a black stripe on her nose, and fur freckles around her eyes. She slept sprawled on my lap for the six hour trip home from Ohio. 

She’s home, not so wild.

She appropriately sleeps

In the guest room.

For now.

Winding

Still waiting to meet Miss Calliope. Today... Yellow Springs excursion. Tomorrow...the kitten.

Day two in Ohio

Winding road

After winding road.

I thank God I am

A passenger.

We have yet to meet

The calico girl.

Tomorrow we bring her home.

But today we drive

And drive

And drive,

Hear story after story.

Winding.

Winding.

Winding.

Oh the offers

Offers come continually. What will we say this time?

Oh the offers come:

The conference will cost less

If only I will do more:

Wake up earlier

Than I ever do,

Organize the materials,

Introduce the speaker,

Be eternally present.

Oh the offers come:

Will I consider

Interim ministry again?

Oh the offers:

There is a tiny kitten

A girl,

Calico.

I understand all calicoes

Are girls.

There is a tiny kitten

Waiting in Ohio,

A tiny catbox,

Kitten-size food dishes

Already in the car.

The old cat,

Sound asleep

In one of his many cat beds,

Has no idea.

No idea whatsoever.

Beef brisket

It's like this... two boats... traveling on different rivers... except they both end up in the Sea... eventually. Meanwhile...on occasion... there's brisket with horseradish... and many, many, mixed metaphors.

Yesterday I spent time

With a friend

Who encouraged me

To make leaps and bounds

In my fifties.

We shared beef brisket

With horseradish.

It seemed I should offer him

Something

Except I wasn’t sure exactly what.

I said

If there’s any way

You think

I can be helpful

Please

Please

Let me know.

He said

I will,

With that twinkle he has,

I will.

Simple

This may be a haiku sort of week. I envision publishing shorter and shorter poems. I remind myself of Williams' The Red Wheelbarrow... a classic. Still ... every poem begins with one simple line.

Every poem

Begins with one simple line

Then moves on from there.

Slot

Living into the Alleluia. The Amen comes later.

There’s no exact slot

I will ever fit into.

Alleluia! Amen.

...Or watch

Number 3 in the series on the bedtime prayer.

Ye watchers and ye Holy Ones.

God is not the only one

Who watches us.

We watch each other,

Even at night,

Pay attention

To the particulars

Even as we sleep.

Even as we sleep

God holds our hand

Gives it a squeeze

So we know when

To open our eyes.

God’s like that.

She watches

The watchers.

She watches us watchers,

Names us holy,

Calls us worthy

Even when

We are asleep.

Faster every year

Shopping on Wednesdays is slower. It is senior citizen day. It seems I am recognized as a fellow traveler. This is a good thing.

The woman

In the motorized cart

Told me

My birthday is in two days.

I will be 79.

It’s hard to grow old

Oh…

But you must know this too.

I said

I do

But I also know it’s important

To claim every year.

Yes

She said

They go so fast now.

Yes

I said

Faster every year.

With those who work

A second reflection on a favorite bedtime prayer:

I remember, years ago, taking my turn as the on-call chaplain at night. One time I talked with a youth group touring the city at night. They met with me to find out what I did. I was only one stop on their tour. I admired the woman who thought to do this, to put together such a tour, to open eyes to the City at night, the people at work there.

God has a night ministry.

She walks the streets

Roams the alleys

Finds her way

To the Emergency Room.

I have met Her there.

She holds babies born

After hours,

Swaddles them in soft blankets.

She finds all who claim the night hours

To be their time to work,

Night hours borne for the cleaning

Of office buildings;

Night hours for those

Who see stars

As their livelihood.

God has a night ministry.

She keeps tabs

On those who work

In the dark.

Facing forward

I kept the appointment with the trainer today. We determined I was ok as long as I wasn't turning my head. Amazing. This reflection is in honor of all who find themselves having to adapt to things, like dizzy brains, in order to keep moving forward. No dipsy-doodles. Just moving forward.

Today I am ok

As long as I face forward,

Don’t twist side to side.

No sit-ups.

No dipsy-doodles.

I am ok

When I face forward and move

One step at a time,

Take care to enjoy

The cool air,

Sit when I must,

Stand when I can

Walk and walk and walk

One step at a time.

No sit-ups

No core-twists

No dipsy-doodles.

Today I will face forward.

Watermelon

I called this Watermelon because it needed some sort of title. 

Sitting in the blue chair

Eating watermelon.

I have done the one thing

On my calendar

For today.

I might add

Recovery from

That one thing

To my list of accomplishments

When I get there.

For now

It’s watermelon.

The blue chair.

Watching the cat.

He has commandeered

My soft blue blanket.

He can have it for now

But later

It’s mine.