Musicals

Thinking this morning of Andrew Lloyd Weber (musicals), Malcolm Guite (sonnets), and me (sermons and poems.) and all of us children.

I wonder

What it must be like

To hear,

To see

Everything

As a musical

Which must be

Staged.

Or perhaps to write

Everything

In sonnet form.

Or perhaps to preach

Everything

As a sermon.

Even perhaps to hold everyone

As a child

To be nurtured

To be held

To be honored.

Ah

There they are:

Musicals

Sonnets

Sermons

Children:

Everything

Everyone

Nurtured

Held
Sung

Honored.

Oaks

It is a late fall. Usually by now, the trees have changed color and dropped a lot of their leaves. Stubborn old trees.

Still waiting

For the ginkgo

To change color,

Drop its leaves.

It seems longer this year

Than others.

Will they drop green

Instead

Of yellow?

Can they do that?

Sometimes oaks

Hold leaves,

Through the winter.

Stubborn old trees

No matter how much wind

Or snow

They will do

What they want.

I know people

Who declare themselves

Oaks,

No matter what

The winter says.

They hold on,

Wait for spring

Until new leaves

Push out

The old.

We will stay here

There's a difference between remodeling to sell and remodeling to stay. We are remodeling to stay.

We will stay here,

Remodel the downstairs,

Put up bird feeders

In the backyard,

Consider

More perennials,

Treat the ash,

De-scab

The crab apple.

We will reclaim

This house

As our own.

And now

And now

And now

We will figure again

What

This all looks like.

We will do it

For ourselves.

We bond

For Danuta, the woman who comes every two weeks and tells me she has stacks of books everywhere, too. Both of us know books and movies are not the same thing.

We bond,

Know books and movies

Are not the same thing.

The stories we tell

In our imagination

Are not

The stories

A screenwriter

Imagines.

They are

Different.

The plot and characters

Have some semblance

Of sameness

Yet

They are not

The same.

Read the book

Go to the movie

But don’t figure

They are the same.

We bond.

We are readers.

We know books and movies

Must be digested

As separate things.

I say

One

Or the other.

Insurance

This was one of my first "of course I can" experiences. One builds upon another.

Years ago

I worked

For an insurance agency.

Because I had majored

In Greek,

My 81 year old boss

Hired me.

Anyone who

Can learn Greek

Must surely be able

To learn insurance.

I did not

Dissuade him

Of his statement.

I worked there

For three years.

I learned insurance,

Explained new-fangled things

Like mopeds

To the rest

Of the office.

Perhaps

He was right.

Extravagant Wednesdays

This Minnesota girl feels odd claiming a day for herself...but I am. It even feels extravagant. I am practicing extravagance and working to realize it is not a bad thing.

Wednesdays

Are for me.

Extravagant Wednesdays.

It feels indulgent

To sit in a chair,

Wait to see

Who comes by,

Who offers a greeting,

Who offers

A presence,

Who says it is good

To see me,

Even

Who walks by

Allows me

To smile a possibility

Of grace.

Extravagant Wednesdays.

A gift

For them

For me.

New raincoat

The last I saw it was in Scotland. Perhaps someone there is wearing my pink raincoat.

I have begun

The things

I went back to school

For.

Slowly

Slowly

Oh so

Slowly.

They go

At their own pace.

I lead

Or trail behind.

It depends

On the day.

Sometimes it rains.

I have lost

My pink raincoat.

Today is a day

I trail behind.

I will need to buy

A new raincoat

Never mind

The color.

Left-pawed

It just occurred to me that Callie is right-pawed. This is clearly not a serious reflection, for the lefties in my life.

The young cat

Is right-pawed,

Grooms herself,

With right paw only.

I wonder

Of left-pawed cats

Whether there are

Any.

Do they have

The same

Personality?

Do they catch

The occasional

Mouse?

Do they need

To eat

With opposite

Forks and knives?

Do they need

To be seated

At particular places

At the

Thanksgiving table?

Rearranged

I have volumes upon volumes, blog post upon blog post of poetry to keep track of the days. I woke this morning to the furniture being rearranged, a signal that something has changed.

I dreamed

The living room

Rearranged,

Furniture and paintings

In different places.

I woke to

The rocking chair

In a new location

Than it was

When I went to bed.

My beloved says

He moved it there

Yesterday.

That’s not the only thing

That changed

Overnight.

Found nuts

Obviously I do not write in particular forms or rhyme patterns. On occasion a haiku will drop from the sky or be dug up from the ground. Otherwise,,,no.

I am glad

For all those poems

With form.

I am glad

For the ones

Which do not appear

As sonnet

As villanelle

As haiku

As haibun.

I do not write them,

At least

Not usually.

Most

Appear

Dropped down

From the sky.

They eat crumbs

Thrown out

On the patio,

Nuts buried

In the ground

When the blue jays remember

Where they are.

After the fall

Thank you, Polly. I heal from a cracked rib (this time) and it's good to have people in caring positions around me.

Two weeks

After the fall

The trainer suggests

We forgo

The core hold.

It would hurt

Like a mother.

She says,

In that inimitable way

She has.

My core

Thanks her.

Ash leaves

Still waiting for the ginkgo down the block to drop all its leaves at once, a regular fall occurrence. Working to hear the ash leaves in back talk with each other.

The ash leaves

In back

Are half green,

Half yellow.

The fall light

Illuminates them

So both show

The same.

They hold the branches,

Promise each other

To let go

At the same time,

Wait for fall wind

Or rain

To join each other,

Cover the grass.

Overlap

Thank you, Kelly Flanagan, for naming that, for us, for the world, there is significant overlap between the things of this world, even as we go about creating false boundaries.

I admit

I would prefer everything

With clean, clear

Boundaries.

Good versus bad

Light versus dark

Life versus death.

Our cat caught a mouse

Last night,

Worried it to death.

We woke to a dead mouse

On the bathroom floor.

It is better

Than a dead mouse

On the pillow.

The cat had done

What she is meant

To do.

We still mourn

The mouse,

Now under

The front bushes.

With cats and mice

There are clean, clear

Boundaries.

With us

Well

We mourn

The mouse

Under\

The front bushes.

Installation

We often, too often, use the word: installation, when a priest begins a new position in a parish. What happens when they leave, or it has been determined that they will leave? Is there a curb while they wait for the man in overalls with the truck with slatted sides? All too often...Yes.

We install appliances,

Plug them in

Let them work

Until they

Die

Or we determine

It’s time

For a newer model.

Then we

Put them on the curb.

They are carried away

By a man

In overalls

And a truck

With slatted sides.

Such an odd term

For people:

Installation.

Appliances

Are installed.

People are cherished,

Held with honor,

Prayed for,

Never

Put

On the curb.

Blood in the game

Hard to know what the death toll will finally be. What if we added all of it up? What if we all had skin in whatever game is being played? All of it?

Our flag

Will not be

At half mast

For Mogadishu,

231 or more

Killed.

They will mourn

For three days.

Their president

Gave blood today

In solidarity.

He has blood

In whatever game

Is being

Played.

Desert

Thanks, Bill Bippus and Rick Stevens. I am humming.

A friend named

The future as

A horse

With no name.

The future

Is always

Nameless.

We would like

To name it.

In some ways

The future is itself

Always a desert

With no name.

Never mind

The horse.

The world expands

I tried to explain this over coffee. 

I was not successful. 

I am not always successful. 

Welcome to the world I inhabit

We grow older,

The world expands

Beyond anything

We knew before,

Well beyond

Anything we knew.

We think we knew and lo

We didn’t.

Here comes

That new thing

We were not aware of

Yesterday,

Only recognized

Today.

We could not have known it

Yesterday.

It took all of yesterday

To expand

Into today.

I tried to name this

Over coffee

This morning.

I’m not sure

I was successful

But then again

Success has changed today

From yesterday

Too.

Double rainbow

No rainbow in Wisconsin last weekend.

I missed

The double rainbow

Last weekend.

I am grateful

My son captured it.

I remember

The triple rainbow

Off the coast

Of Iona.

Such things

Must be held

And remembered

And held

And remembered

And held

And remembered,

Particularly

When they come

In twos

And threes.

Ants

One with the ants

I am 62.

When I fall

Which is still

Way too often,

I am one

With the ants.

We speak

Antenna

To antenna.

Ants

Are fascinating

Creatures.

I look at those

In wheelchairs

On walkers

Using canes.

They are my kin.

Still

As I come

Antenna

To antenna

With my sisters

The ants

I am one.

My office is not spare

Office space is important. It matters to people...what is safe to say or not say.

My office

Is not spare.

There are

Enough words

Enough things

For people to hold

With their eyes

With their hands

Pictures

Puppets

A pillow or two

In case a pause

Is needed between words.

One man knelt

An entire session

On a multi-colored blanket,

Said

Very little.

I guess he needed

The space.

No matter what

This is one of those tough lessons...Advising, and realizing we are not responsible for the outcome.

No matter

How often

I advise others

What to do,

I know

It’s never

Up to me

To hold them accountable

For my advice.

Of course

This is not the same

As not speaking

At all.

I speak

Often.

Then

I wait to see

What happens.

Chainsaw

I have never used a chainsaw. I think I am afraid of what may happen, if I do.

To a person,

Male or female,

I hear

How easy it is

To keep going

Once you start

With a chainsaw.

Soon

There is nothing left

And the bushes

The shrubs

The trees

Must begin again

From

Bare space,

The chainsaw

Put away

For at least

One more season.

You know how it is

With a chainsaw.

Begets

As a child I always knew the sun breaking through the cloud was God.

Sometimes it feels

Like violence

Begets

Violence

Begets

Violence

Begets

Hurricanes

Begets

Earthquakes.

I pray

For a different outcome,

That ray of sun

Through a dark cloud.

I always knew

It was God

Shining through,

Though others

Told me

It couldn’t

Possibly be.