Red Sky in Morning

They say

It is always darkest

Before the dawn 

 

They say

The sun always rises

 

They say 

Weeping may spend

The night

But joy

Is just around the corner

 

The sky dawned red

This morning

After 

A pitch black night

They say

Red sky in morning

Sailors

Take warning

Batten down the hatches

They say

To everything

There is a season

The Whole of It

While we remember

The possible lessons

From 2020

Let us remember 

The losses

The grief

Not cover it

All over with joy

Before we realize

Its entirety

Let us remember

The whole of it

 

We Celebrale Separately

We celebrate separately

This year 

It is quiet here

A gentle Christmas

Quiet

We have all

Grown up

But circumstances

Such as they are

Also bring

This different celebration

Separate

Quiet

Even the cat

Sleeps

Essential

Essential workers

Essential breathers 

 

Who is of the essence

In this time

Of the coming

Of Christ

 

What matters most now

In this time

When health

And food

And shelter

Cannot be taken

For granted

Each of us 

Is essential

For the very sake

Of the other

 

These Times Will Bring

These times will bring

So much more

The roots may find more nourishment

Than we might ask

Or imagine

As we sit in one place

Long enough

The roots may find nourishment

In the soil

Green shoots 

May find

New life

From the stump

Of Jesse

 

Make the Most

Make the most

Of these daylight hours

The night

Promises long

Make the most

The sun shines

Take that extra shot

Of Vitamin D

To carry you forward

To tomorrow

I Read Recipes

In this year

Of pandemic

I read recipes 

To consider new ways

To nourish my body

I read new poetry

To find those who seek

To name things

It never occurred to me

To name

I read novels

To discover 

Whole new worlds

I may inhabit

So I can bring them home

To roost 

And redecorate

The living room

Not the Mama

This is the season

Of the Mama

Swollen belly

Puffy ankles

Baby kicking

In her womb 

Everyone else

Joseph

Angel

Shepherd

Wise Person

Is

Not the Mama

 

 

 

Two Rejections

Two rejections

For the same position

I kill you once

I kill you twice

As if it is necessary

Really

Of course this time

I ask the person

Who rejected me twice

By email

Why

Was it necessary

To tell me twice

I got it

The first time

Seasoned

I want to surround myself

With seasoned people

And a few

With new eyes

A mix will do

After all

Not one

Or the other

Not either/or

But both/and

Wait for the Dawn

Wait for the dawn

It always comes

Lightens the edges

Of the sky

Wait for the dawn

It always

Always 

Comes

Lightens the edges

Of the sky

Of course

First we must

Open our eyes

This is the way

Of morning

Open our eyes

Wait for the dawn

It always comes

First ballot

The first ballot shows

Where the Spirit has flowed

Not

Where 

She may end up

Odyssey

Are we not all

On an odyssey

Of our own making

Or perhaps someone else

Rudders the boat

We do our best 

To steer between 

Scylla and Charybdis

Not to be led astray

By 

Siren song

Steer a straight path

Home

Hope we will find it

As we left it

Though we know

Just as we have changed

Home

Will never

Be the same

Nod to Tradition

This is the year

We had roast beef

For Thanksgiving

With two of us

A whole turkey

Made no sense

Our son made 

Cornish game hens

With cranberry reduction sauce

A nod

To tradition

Our daughter

Ran plates of food

Around her neighborhood

Also a nod

To tradition

Christmas

Will bring with it

Its own variety

Of ways

To celebrate

Angel Chimes

We divvied out

The family jewels

 Sat in a circle

 On the dining room floor

When it was my turn

I chose

The silver water pitcher

My sister sighed

She could have chosen it

On the last go-round

 

The brass angel chimes

The ones we polished

Every year

Were nowhere

To be found

 

I would have chosen them

Instead

When Moses Complained

When Moses complained

God heard

Responded

With water

With manna

With quail

When Moses' face shown

They knew 

It was not just

Thunder

On the mountain

Not insignificant water

Manna

Birds

Commandments

On stone tablets

When Moses complained

God took him

Seriously

Normal is Not

What's normal for me

May be normal

For you

Or not

I tend to think

Not

Normal is not

Scrambled eggs

Oatmeal

For breakfast 

Normal is not

Where we will return

Next year

Avocado on whole wheat toast

With a sprinkle

Of salt and pepper

And chia

Normal 

Will be different

No matter what

We expect

Hurricane Season?

Is this really the end

Of hurricane season

As the 10 PM news

Proclaims it

It may be so

This has been a year

Of

I'll believe it

When I see it

When no more islands

Are swept away

When days

Dawn brighter

For awhile

I am not too picky

Still

I will believe

No hurricanes

When I see

 No hurricanes

Anticipation

Advent has begun

It is a fitting time

For a new year

We can anticipate light

While we head into

Dark 

Anticipation

Looms large

This year

In particular

New president

New vaccine

People string

Christmas lights

In anticipation

Of greater light

Greater health

For all

 

My Wildness

Black animals 

Inhabit my dreams

I am told pure black

Reflects no light

And doesn't register

At all

Still

Black animals 

Inhabit my dreams

The large black dog

Next to my recliner

The small black lignite panther

On the bookshelf

In my full sight

She is my

Spirit animal

She is the likeness

Of the panther

I purchased years ago

At the hardware store

In a dream

Wrestled her home

To live with me

So I could not forget

My wildness

 

One More Sleep Test

One more sleep test

What are the odds

I will find something

New 

Or the doctor 

Will find

Something

Old

One more time

To sleep 

In front of a camera

In a cold room

Under thin

Hospital sheets

Therapist in the Wilderness

Aren't we always

In the wilderness

No matter who

Our clients are

No matter what

Our level of training

Don't we join them

In the wilderness

If we see it

As such

Aren't we always

In the wilderness

With John the Baptist

Eating locusts

And wild honey

Baptizing our clients

Into a new way

Of life

Waiting for Jesus

To find us

 

Let it Grow

The roots are alive

Under the snow

Let it grow

No matter

The pretense

Of death

The roots are alive

Under the snow

Let it grow

No matter

The appearance

Of death

The roots are alive

Under the snow

Let it grow

Keister

Today

I begin again

I may have fallen

On my keister

Yesterday

But today

Is a new day

I am upright

Even if only

In my chair

Oh yes 

Discouragement

Is not foreign

To me

It's what helps me

Relate

To those around me

Witness

Who is your witness

Who sees you

For who you are

Rather than

Who she hoped

Who he hoped

You might be

It is a tricky thing

This witness

So easy for other things

To get in the way

And soon

To get mired

In what we wish things

Might be

Just Getting Acquainted

Some people sit

With a poem

For hours

Maybe days

Me

I say

Be off with you

Visit your friends

Let me sit

With this new

Fellow

This new

Gal 

We are just

Getting

Acquainted

Dance

The trees dance

In the backyard

Who knows

Their partners

Where they come from

North

South

East

West

I just know

They dance

Immaculate

Our neighbor's lawn

Is immaculate

 

In this season

Every trash day

Finds bags of leaves

On his curb

The trees have not finished

With him

This year

 

Nature will continue

To have

Her way

With him

No matter 

The season

 

 

 

 

When all this is over

When all this 

Is over

Something new

Will arise

 

God willing

We can learn 

From all this

Apply it 

To all that

 

First the grief

First the grief

Before the healing

Can begin

 

No

I got it wrong

 

First the reckoning

Then the grief

 

We must take such things

One at a time

 

First the reckoning

Then the grief

Finally the health

 

It will not happen

Overnight

Re-centering

 I walk down the stairs

As I do every morning

Realize the world

Has begun a spin

On a different

Axis

Of course 

It will take awhile

To figure

Where we fit

In the larger scheme

Of things

It has always 

Been so

Whether we see it

Or not

Will our friends

Still be

Our friends

Last night 

All the leaves

Let loose

We will need

To see

Where they land

When the wind

Picks up

Climate

The climate

The climate

One day in

And

It already begins

To change

It will not come

Overnight 

Good things

Rarely do

They eke their way out

They rise slowly to the surface

Soon

The day begins

To dawn

Brighter

 

Exhale

Pray

Pray

Pray

 

Exhale

Thank you

Amen

Melted into God

What if

It turns out

We are all

Melted into God

And

It is for our

Common Good

To see our neighbors

There

Even the Wicked Witch

Of the West

And her sister

She of the 

Striped stockings

Struck by the house

The Wicked Witch

Of the East 

What if

We are all

Melted into God

We end up 

As a Greek Chorus

I'm melting

I'm melting

I'm melting

Blueberries all year round

Blueberries

All year round 

They arrive

From all parts

Of the world

Today's blueberries

Speak Spanish

Maybe Aymara

They hail from Peru

On the other side

Of the equator

That imaginary line

We draw

To keep us all

Separated

 

Have You Forgotten

Have you forgotten

To vote

There are a couple hours 

Left

The air 

Hangs heavy

Here

As we wait

And wait

And wait

Recycled

All that is

Is

Recycled

We like to pretend

We are new

Completely new

Still

We are new paper

Made from

Paper pulp

We are creatures made

Of stardust

I prefer

The stardust route

So much more

Appealing

To watch the stars

Claim my heritage

There

 

 

 

How Can I Complain

How can I complain

When the day dawns

Gold and blue

A child's red bicycle

On the sidewalk

A mother in pink

Walking behind

A black lab

Led 

On a green leash

How can I complain

When my eyes are

Fed

By such things

As these

 

 

Sole Sugar Maple

When our yard

Was planned

It was not planned big

On variety

Come autumn

Ir is entirely 

Gold

Thank goodness

For today's gray sheet

Of rain

And the sole 

Sugar maple

Burning orange and red

Across

The street

Simple Floral Arrangement

I try to write one poem

A day

Some days

The creative juices

Flow 

Through someone else's veins 

It comes out their fingers

Their voices

Their paintbrushes

Sometimes it's

A simple

Floral arrangement

Two orange gerbera daisies 

A sprig of baby's breath

One small leather leaf

Fern

Why Would I Ever

Why would I ever wonder

Where's

Who's

How's

The particular

When it will all

Come clear

Eventually 

The muddle which is often

My brain

Says

It is so

 

 

Excuse My Dust

She spent years

In a file cabinet

Until she was found

Then buried 

As directed

Her estate left

To Martin Luther King

Then to the NAACP

They had never heard of her

Surprise

Surprise

Surprise

A woman with passion

Toward your cause

Speaks from the grave 

Her royalties

Are yours

She was one of wit

Dorothy Parker 

Her gravestone reads

Excuse my dust

What shall I write

I walk down the stairs

Every morning

Know what I shall write

Awaits me

In the living room chair

If I sit long enough

Hold  the coffee

Warm in my hands

How do you decide

What to write

They ask me

It's there

It's there

It's there

Sometime the good

Strains through

Sometimes it takes

Another cup

Of coffee

 

I Know It's Morning

I know it's morning

But in the dark

It's hard to tell

We near the time

To gain an extra hour

It will be easier

To know 

Then

Hint of the Season

So glad

To wake up 

To sunlight

Through the redbud

Gold in autumn

White in winter

Purple in spring

Green in summer

I can look out

Know

What to expect

When I open the window

A hint of the season

FOX

The neighborhood call

Goes out

As if this

Is a threat

To everyone

Perhaps a squirrel

Or someone

With a very tiny dog

The foxes in our backyard

Eat crab apples

With all the other

Animals

FOX

Send him over here

We have crab apples

For everyone

Ephod

Aaron was commanded

To wear two onyx stones 

Six tribes each 

Then four rows

Row one

Carnelian, Chrysolite, Emerald

Row two

Turquoise, Sapphire, Moonstone

Row three

Jacinth, Agate. Amethyst

Row four

Beryl, Onyx, Jasper

All set in gold filigree

Not to mention 

The embroidery 

Such was the ephod

Urim and Thummim

Urim and Thummim

 

Stones kept close

To the heart

In case innocence 

And guilt

Did not

Pronounce themselves

Clearly

As was often

The case

Pocket full of stones

We never know

When a stone

Will be required

To mark a visit

Hence

We must keep

Our pockets full

Of stones

So we are never caught

Stone-less

Breadcrumbs

Breadcrumbs lay a trail

Still

Not one which lasts

They are subject

To consumption

By birds

Stones last longer

Stones may be piled

In cairns

Left for generations

To wonder why

They are there

Stones may be left

To gleam

In the moonlight

For Hansel and  Gretel

To find their way home

 

Which things when found

Which things when found

Belong 

To the wider world

In museums

Or beyond

Which things bear

Too much beauty

For one

Stones

 A dream

 

Three white stones

Sun-bleached

In a row

In the midst

Of brown sand desert

No wind

They have been there

Forever

A sign 

Of regular visitation

Even 

In this most barren 

Of places

More of the whole

Find the parts

That go together 

Meditate on

A particular title 

So others

May understand

More of the whole

Continue on themselves

When the book

Ends

Neighborhood

A beautiful day

So many things 

To think about

To plan

To walk around the block

See what is still there 

After the last walk

So many rhings

Will call to me

After yesterday

 

Justice

How could I not

Pay tribute today

In my small way

To you

In your mighty way

Lace collars

So we always knew

You were a lady

The best

Of the Supremes

How could I not

Pay tribute

For what you have done

For what

You have 

Left behind

How could I not

Pay tribute today

In my smaller way

The goldfish

Every grade school

Back then

Had a fair

With goldfish

As prizes

My kindest neighbor

Kept a grade school fish

Alive

For years

She is the one we asked

To care for our pets

When we

Were on vacation

Edgers

Everywhere I went today

Lawn people

Were edging

We do not pay them

To edge

Loudly

At 7 AM

I left the therapist

To edgers

Loud

Edgers 

Before we had

Lawn people

We never edged 

At all

Vet

The cat

Has not been 

To the vet

Since she was a kitten

She remembers

The vet

Now she knows

Every place to hide

In the house.

She's no fool

She knows 

What it means

When we close 

Every door

She sees the pictures

Of rhe cat

And the rabbit

On the special box

We hope

This will be

Less traumatic

For her

Summer Jobs

 I have been

A Foto Foto Fun Fun girl

In an orange and yellow

Short polyester dress

Rode my bicycle

To work

In different grocery stores

I was a Foto Foto Fun Fun

Floater

One summer I was

An Icee bear

A broken fan

In the head

Get the picture

White fake fur

Ninety five degrees 

I was grateful

For camp counseling

No polyester

No fake fur

Only mosquitoes

I write short

I write short.

Don't worry

He said

We can always

Pare things down

Don't worry

I said

That has never

Been my issue

Never been

My issue 

I usually have to work

To say more

Like here

 

Lizard

Oh, I have preached

Many times

But this will be 

My second time

Reading poetry

Out loud

And in person

I have six minutes

To fill

On Zoom

On Wednesday night

From Kansas City

From Flying Ketchup Press

This is a different creature

Maybe a lizard

I think

Prickle

Porcupines are mostly 

Solitary creatures

It's not too difficult

To tell why

Still

When they do 

Gather together

They are called

A prickle

Again

It's nor too difficult

To tell why.

Owls

Do owls recognize 

Each other

As owls 

Or only another bird

Great horned

Barn

Snowy

Screech

Sawwhet

Are they competitors

Family

Or different breeds

Entirely

Are we the ones

Who make the distinction

What about them

Do they hang out

Together

Mouth full of fluff

There are days

In which our mouth

Is filled with fluff

No sentences

Barely a single 

Word

Our tongue trips

Over our teeth

These are days

To watch what happens

Around us 

 

Surprise

When people disappear

Where do they go

Do they hide

In the cracks

In the corners

Do they wait to make

An entrance

Unbeknownst

Surprise

Surprise

Surprise

I'm here

Glacial Remains

 

So many names

For glacial remains

There are signs of glaciers

Everywhere

So many names

Terminal moraines

Erratics

Drumlins

Esters

So many names

For glacial remains

 

Training wheels

If 65 is the new middle-age

When do we expect

To die?

I am now 65

Is this what middle

Looks like? 

Will we all make it

To 130

I have barely

Just begun

I use a different set

Of training wheels 

For these years.

Shake off the fluff

The tasks for today:

Write a poem

Speak with the new editor

Watch goldfinches

Eat seeds

Off the thistle

Shake off

The fluff

Watch more goldfinches

Stay awake

Don't drink coffee

Study

For the sleep test

Tonight

Stay awake

Shake off

The fluff.

 

What have we done to the rain?

With thanks to Bob Dylan's; What have they done to the rain?

 

What have we done

With the rain?

With the world

With the country

With our borders

With our families

And yes I mean

We

It's so easy to blame

Those other people

Who live

Next door

What have we done

With the rain?

Just as long as I write

On this new day

Which poems hide out

Demand

To be written

A blank page

Will not do

No thousand words

For me

As long as I write

Just as long

As I write.

Beirut: begin again

 A new awareness:

Beirut doesn't just need doctors

Doesn't just need nurses'

Though doctors and nurses

Are certainly necessary.

With its buildings

Blasted to bits

It needs architects

Contractors

To begin again

And then

Begin again.

 

What comes next

 Pile of creative possibilities

Next to the chair

Waiting for

What comes next

Waiting for

What next lands

On the plate

Speaks

In my mind

Whispers

In my ear

Catches the corner

Of my eye.

Colors to sew

Words to write

Whar comes next.

Ice cream is available everywhere

First post haircut

Still in the pandemic

We all wear masks

Such as they are.

The restaurants are not open

Ice cream is available everywhere

Damn gorgeous cardinal

Birdie

Birdie

Birdie

Damn gorgeous cardinal

Outside

The bedroom window

Five

In the morning

The redbud is his

In case we forgot

Overnight.

Birdie

Birdie 

Birdie

 

Covers

 I do not think

In covers.

It's time for the fun part

He says

Your book will have

A cover.

I do not think in covers

Words

Are my thing

Let others create pictures

From t

So be it.

he words.

But if a cover is necessary.

Can we go see nature?

Can we go see nature?    The request came

From the five-year old. So many years ago now

It was no use to say

Nature is everywhere

We knew what she meant.

 

 

Morning eyes

The cardinal I saw

Out the window

This morning

Was only a bunch

Of dead leaves

It fooled the cat

As well.

We saw the cardinal

Two mornings ago

It was a simple mistake

Brown crispy leaves

Red bird

Both all

Aflutter

A simple misunderstanding

Bird

Leaves

Morning eyes.

I must remember

I  must remember

To watch my feet

Not trip

Fall down the stairs.

Fall up the stairs.

Some mornings

The stair rails

Are more helpful

Than others

The stairs

More carpeted

More slippery

I must remember

To hang on

Watch

Where

I am going

Watch

Where

I am coming.

Audience of one

We all have a guaranteed
Audience
Of one.
Sometimes it expands
Beyond ourselves.
Then we count it
Worthy.
We need to begin
With an audience
Of one
Before we ripple
Outwards.

Earlier times

Even in the summer
I begin the day
With something
Hot to drink.
My hands
Cradle the cup
Remember
Earlier times

Breakfast

My favorite meal
Of the day
Is breakfast.
It does not matter
Who I share it with.
Sometimes
A particular poem
Shares a cup of coffee
Gently offers
A word or two
Calls attention
To what comes next
If I only
Listen

Impressionist

The impressionist
Experienced
One moment
At a time
Like this one.
Saw it.
Painted it.
Wrote it.
The sun lit the flower.
The bird flew.
The wind changed
The leaves.
The snow covered
The thistle
One moment
And then
It was gone.

Purple topknot

My thistle
Wears a purple topknot
She is not
Native here
She hides
Under
Her thorns
Next
To the purple
Coneflowers
One bed over.
Maybe
She will succeed
In thorny
Subterfuge.
Somehow
I doubt it.

The parrot

The last living speaker
Of a tribal language
In South America
Is a parrot.
I wonder
Her vocabulary.
I wonder
If she's
Lonely
I wonder if she flew
To the next village
To have more people
To talk with.
Or even
To repeat back
Repeat back
Repeat back
Repeat back
What they say
To her
What they say
To him
 

You can't make me

The virus does not
Make enemies
Does not consider anyone
A friend.
The virus
Is the virus
No matter what.
Some believe
They are immune,
No masks
No handwashing
No distancing
You can't make me
They say
Like children

Front pew

While I understand why
We don't worship
In church
I think of my particular spot
In the front pew
My orange walker
Waiting
To return

Magnet

He fishes with a magnet
Who knows what
Is on the bottom
Of the lake?
His landlord
Wants to know
What the pile of metal
Is for.
The rusted bike
Is his prize.
Will he paint it?
Will he dress it?
Will he name it?

Best compliment

 It's important to write such things down before they get lost.

Best compliment I received
Two weeks ago,
Took me two weeks
To write down.
Now I don't remember
Who graced me
With the words
It may very well
Be my beloved.
Your poetry
He said
Reminds me
Of O. Henry stories.
They often
Have a twist
On the end.

Bruno

For Sawyer, Jon, and Bruno.

He knows his mind
That dog
All it takes
Is an open car door
He knows
It's his car
His driver
His home
He knows

Third grade

I remember the first poem I ever wrote.

I wish I was a hummingbird
I'd go to places you never heard
I'd buzz around
From flower
To flower
Every day
Every hour.

I wrote it in large pencil in big capital letters.

On the fly

Poetry flies through my head
At night
I come downstairs
It is gone.
Write it down
They say
Still
It makes no sense
In the morning.
Even from a scrap
Of paper.
Different poets
Take nature walks
With pencil
And paper.
They compose
On the fly.

Opening churches

Opening churches
Just tells us when
It will be safe
Is it ever safe?
We like
To think so.
Our God
Is not a safe God
Remember
Whenever we gather
It involves
Risk
We forget
So often.
Perhaps
Now
We are meant
To remember.

They arrive

The monarchs.
The backyard is filled
With monarchs.
It took them so long
To discover
The milkweed.
Now they communicate
By monarch antennae
To antennae.

Keyboard

Does the keyboard
Make sense?
No
It does not.
How did the vowels
Lose track
Of each other?
Why is U so far
From Q?
And F and G
In the middle
When they are so rarely
Used.
Sense
Why am I looking
For sense?

Two days ago

Two days ago I learned
That the rib cage
Extends
Behind us
as well
As in front
Yes
Of course it does.
Sometimes I learn things
The hard way.

Creative space

Alan Jacobs' SNAKES and LADDERS post today got me thinking,

What do we need
To be creative
To write
To paint
All our books lined up
In size order?
By color?
So every time
We open our eyes
A rainbow spans
The bookshelf?
Do we need blank space
An ocean
A lake
Green space
A particular rug?
Me?
I need birds
Inside and out.

Redefinition

I have two other manuscripts in waiting, so I thought I'd start out with number three, the smallest one first.

I suspect we all
Redefine
These days
One way
Or another.
This week I am on
Book number three
I will self-publish.
Have contacted a printer
Even three people
Who will write
About my writing.
This is new
For me.
I suspect we all
Have redefined.

Raw

So many ways
To speak
To hear
To be heard
Even in these times
Of sorrow
Of rawness
I used to describe myself
As Pollyanna
Yet she
Is anything
But raw
But sorrowful.
She dances.
She sees the world
Painted
In rainbows.
And then
And then
Someone saw my work
As raw
It is time
To see underneath
Pollyanna,

Bee balm

We wait for the bees
With purple bee balm.
It returned this  year
Not everything did
But bee balm
Yes
We wait for the monarchs
With milkweed.
It is profound.
It returned.
It calls
For those butterflies
Enough
For
Multitudinous
Monarchs

Post pandemic

 Waiting for the pandemic to end, like all of us, and I mean ALL.

The world gets fresher
We open the windows
Listen to the birds
The lawnmowers
Feel the wind
Through our hair
Consider new things
Possibly
Post
Pandemic

Fashion statement

I ordered a floral series of masks yesterday. May as well make myself laugh, when I look in the mirror.

Masks
Are the new
Fashion statement
Most everyone
Wears one.

Assemblage

 When a loved one struggles with a diagnosis and we work to figure out how to struggle with it, it is like a collage of sorts.Which are the pieces of tissue paper to use? When to stop and merely  sit?


No
I do not speak French
Yet this is the word
That chimes
In my head.

I try to put things
Together,
Make them fit.
Maybe the word is more
Like collage.
Now it feels like
Watered glue
Multi-colored tissue paper
On cardboard.

Company, sometimes

This is one of the times I must guess.

We all need company
Sometimes
Sometimes
We know it
Sometimes someone else
Must guess
Come up alongside.

Unearthed wealth

 One more for my great-grandfather, Thomas Sadler Roberts. I am another generation watching birds.

The swoop of goldfinches
In the backyard
Reminds me
Of all the treasure
That remains
Unseen
Unknown
They are unearthed
Wealth.

The bison were not open for business yesterday

My beloved's birthday was yesterday, We were going to go see the bison. No. They were not open .

The bison were not open
For business
Yesterday
We could only see them
By computer screen
And then
Only if they chose
To walk by
The cameras
The bison and bob-o-links
Have taken a break
From  being on perpetual view
They can choose
If they will be seen
Or not.
It is the season
For calves
This season of sickness
Has allowed the bison
A rest.

The cat, I love the way

The cat
I love the way
She tentatively enters
Dark places
The cat
I love the way
She crawls under bookshelves
To see
What's there
Even if only
Half of her
Can fit
Amd all I can see
Is her tail
Then she backs out
Shakes the dust off
Does a final preen
Begins again.

Oh so white

We are weary
Yes
And angry
Yes
We can't breathe
Yes
We can't breathe
The quotation
Of a young murdered
Black man
In the city of my birth
The white city
Of my birth
Oh so white

Trauma

 First

My trauma
Does not equal
Your trauma
Does not equal
Her trauma
Does not equal
His trauma.
Equality
Is not the word
We seek
The word we seek
Is trauma
Common trauma.
It is the only possibility
For unity.
But first
Comes recognition
Of individual trauma
Before we arrive
Anywhere else.

Chap-books

The children began
reading chapter-books
On their way
To the full thing
It was a new word
In our vocabulary.
At age 65
We have finally
Figured it out.
As I write chap-books
I realize
What I am writing.
These are books
Which can be swallowed
One gulp
At a time.

Turkey feather

My brother laid a turkey feather
At the grave
Of our great grandfather
A fitting remembrance,
The turkey left it there
As well
A fitting remembrance
It seems
The whole natural world
Remembers him.
I am grateful
For remembering
The turkey feather
The flowers
My brother
Now me.

Fireflies

He jumps for fireflies
The fox
We don't know
If he is successful
At the task
We pursue
Summer fireflies
They light up the jar
If we are successful
In our task.
Do we want to succeed?
Would we rather watch them
Blinking
Blinking
Blinking
Uneaten
Uncaught
In the twilight.

Nest

The sparrows remind me
There are other places
To build nests.
The front bushes
Where the cat and I
Can watch them
Unawares
See the beginning
Of babies
The chirp
Of their parents.
Listen to the background
Of mourning doves.

Little libraries

While we wait
For the libraries
To re-open
Little libraries
Offer possibilities
In front of our neighbor's houses
We consider offering books
That others
Might enjoy
Leaving books
For them.

Ivory bill

The ever elusive ivory bill gone missing.

The ivory bill
Has gone missing
In the cypress swamps
Of the South
Yet still
We keep looking
He may appear
She may appear
Again
So many years
Yet still
We keep looking
We look for one ivory bill
Though there have
To be two
If there is one
Even a nest
Even an egg
Maybe
One solitary ivory bill
In the cypress swamps
Of the South.

Flocks

 This is the way it is. I hear the bleating in the distance.

I have left
So many flocks behind
I hear them still
Whether we talk
Or not.
I hear them still.
Some safely graze
Some have moved
To pastures
I cannot know.
This is always the way of it.
Always the way.
Some sheepfolds have been emptied
Even torn down.
The sheep have moved on.
I have moved on
As well.
Sometimes
I get to say goodbye.

Commence

Commence
It's almost time
To commence
Soon enough
We will begin again.
This time it will be
From a new place.
In a different order.
We will march
From our homes
In masks and gowns
Commence
It's almost time.

Black squirrel

We now have a black squirrel
Appeared out of
Who knows where
Plays easily
With the standard grays,
They're all the same
Which of course
They are.
It's really
Just a fur difference

Let it go

It is not time
To add more
To my plate
To say
Why Oh Lord
Can I not have more
Must I be content
With what I have
Already?
Let it go
Let it go
Let it go
Amen.
 

Waves of pink

The crab apple
Blows waves of pink
In the back yard
Of course the wind
Helps
Still
The crab apple
Is what I see
The wind
Blows invisible
Except for the trees.

Pay attention

When the world turns
Upside down
And it seems
My part is
To take a sabbatical
See rhe world
From a different angle
Breathe
See the redbud
Out the front
The crab apple
Out the back
Breathe
Hear the cardinal
Out the front
The buzzy bird
Out the back
(I wish I knew
The buzzy bird's name)
When the world turns
Upside down
Like now
I take a sabbatical
Watch the trees bloom
Listen to the birds
Sing.
Pay attention
Breathe.

A good beginning

Through the bedroom window
The redbud
An occasional small bird
Green and yellow
Identity unknown
A woman on rhe sidewalk
Across the street
Blue umbrella
Dog in a raincoat
Today
Yet to be determined
Still
A good beginning.

If you had your way

30 years ago
I led a Bible study
And a certain gentleman
And yes
He was a gentleman
A bit curmudgeonly
But still
A gentleman
Looked me square
In the eye
Said
If you had your way
You'd empty hell
Yes, of course,
I said.
I wonder what he would say
Now.

Buzz

Morning birds.

The cardinal is unmistakable
In looks
And song
Still
The twitter
With a buzz at the end
Remains out of sight
A mystery.
I imagine
It is small.

View out back

My recliner gives me a good view out the back window. 
  
A bird crosses left to right
Now right to left
I wait for the next crossing

There it is.
 

Aunt Agnes, after all

I piece together the years
Of birds
And flowers
The people
In my history
The ones added in
After all.
I have my own
Added in
After all
Aunt Agnes
A small brown bird
Of a woman
She drew flowers
Like Emma
Married Thomas
After all
And here I am
I have the stories
After all.

Other tales I have known

 In these days of quarantine I find other things to focus on, like the cat's shadow.

The cat walks
Her shadow appears
On the wall.
As she moves.
I notice especially
The tail
Swishing
In the light.
From this my mind moves
To other tales
I have known.

We had all but forgotten

 I am reminded daily of this.

Taken aback
Taken back
The usual things
To re-find
To refine the things
We had lost
So we have to claim them back
Again
There they are
Here they are
We had all
But forgotten
These are ours
To be shared

Like most everyone

Wait for the masks to come
In the mail
Like most everyone
Walk the one-way aisles
In the grocery store
Like most everyone
Pick up prescriptions
Through the vacuum tube
At the pharmacy
Like most everyone
Wonder
Wonder
Wonder
How long
Like most everyone.

Blue jeans

As a priest I counsel and hear confessions. In this time of the Covid 19 pandemic, I must still counsel and hear confessions but must still adapt to the circumstances,

I am even more
Like Julian
These days
Except I
Wear blue jeans
And a T-shirt
Hear confessions
Through
A computer screen
She would understand
She would know
How to adapt
To these times
Such as they are.

Novel

Why is this virus
Novel
Unlike other viruses
Same old
Same old
Same old
Viruses
The common cold
The standard flu
Which comes around
Every fall.
This one even has a name
And a birthday.
Novel
Indeed.

We are still neighbors

We walked around the block
Together
Six feet apart.
We waved and picked them up
As we passed their house.
They walked behind
We walked in front
Six feet]
Six foot conversation
Still together
Not facing each other
But conversation
Nonetheless

Prayer shawls

When a prayer shawl has been made
Prayers knitted
Into it.
Who owns it?
Whose is it to give?
Who needs it
Most?

Lessons

I suspect
No
I know
There are so many
Who have lived in seclusion
For so long
They have much to teach
The rest of  us
If we would only
Listen

Lockdown

This is not my first
Lockdown.
I have loads
Of experience.
I could write
An endless volume
Of poetry
In fact
I have.
I should be good
At this
By now.
I'm not.

April snow

Oh come on
More snow?
This is not
A welcome thing
Do I really have to
Embrace it?
Watch the snow clumps
Drop from the trees?
Do I really have to
Look out the window
Admire it
In all its April beauty?

Easter dnner at the hot dog drive-thru

Easter dinner
At the hot dog drive-thru
In the car
In rhe parking lot
After the Zoomed service
In our home
My dinner came
With mustard and relish only
Thick fries
My beloved's hot dog
Had everything on it
Hold the banana pepper
Onion rings
Please

Triple rainbows

I scarce knew
Rainbows came
In threes
Until the living room
On Iona
Then it seemed a usual thing
To those
Who sat
With me
Triple rainbows?
Oh yes
Of course
In Scottish brogue
Triple rainbows?
Of course they come
In threes.

Confused robin in snow

Outside
It is white again
When I look at the icing
On the trees
The cat
Looks with me
Surely
There must be something
Interesting
To see
No birds
I tell her
Only one confused robin
On the front walk.
Okay
One bird.
One confused robin
 

This is where we are

This is where we are
No
This
Is where we are
Post-tomb but only
Sort of
Post-tomb
We are still walking around
Our respective blocks
Jesus meets us
Halfway
We know
There is learning involved
From all of this
First we must proceed
Around the block
See Jesus
At the corner
Up ahead.

Jesus the weaver

I like the words that weave together
This world
And the world
Yet to come.
Jesus the weaver
The one who sits
At our bedside
Waits for us to rise
As we surely will.
Our fabric woven
From bits and pieces
From this time,
Now Easter.
What will be woven
From our time
In the upper room?

He will come alongside

I have more poems
For the Saturday before Easter
Than any other day
The thought of Jesus
Clearing out Hell
Clearing out this virus
Clearing out
Evil that remains
In this world
Leaving behind
What is ours
To do
The thought that
Of course
There is more
For us to do
And He will come
Alongside.

Preaching in a pandemic

Preaching is meant
To have a congregation
Two or three or more
Gathered together
Somehow
Gathered together.
Let us gather
However we can
Choose a table
Know that we are
All there.

How much can we do?

How much can we do
On-line
No touch
Only voice
Only face
Only sign of the cross
Which travels
Over the wires?
How much can we do
You to me
Me to you?

Words are not always necessary

No language has words
For everything.
I wish we did.
Then we might
Understand each other
Better.
Of course some things
Are not spoken
At all
Words
Are not always
Necessary.

In Hebrew

In Hebrew
The verbs
To wait
And
To hope
Are the same.
I was the only one to take Hebrew
In seminary
I received a grade
Of C
For my efforts.
Ill-earned
I crossed the street
In winter's cold
Overslept half
The classes
Received the Hebrew prize.
Because no one else
Braved the cold
Not because I learned
The verbs
Even now I learned the verbs
To wait
And
To hope
From an article
I read. 

Spring haiku in a pandemic

Hopefully I heard
The sand hills this morning
Flying overhead.

Facing into Holy Week

Facing into
Holy Week
Just the two of us
Imaginary cheering
Crowds
No palms
A coat or two
Facing into
Holy Week
In our heads
It will come
As it will.
It always does,
Quarantine
Or not.
I imagine the disciples
In the upper room
Washing
Each others' feet.

Easter anticipated

Scrambled eggs
Rediscovered
Oh, and toast
I forgot such a simple meal
With a side
Of Jelly Bellies
Fify varieties
Of Jelly Bellies
Received for my birthday
I anticipate Easter
This year
As we all do.
Scrambled eggs
Raisin toast
And
Jelly Bellies
Fifty varieties.
Easter
Anticipated
It will surely come.

Night poetry

I write every morning.
If I am sheltered
For days on end
I may add
The practice
Of writing something
Every night
Will night poetry
Offer a different person
To the world?
Or will it only be
For me?

I do not write

I do not write
For the New Yorker
Though I read the cartoons
Regularly.
I rarely understand
The poetry
They choose
Though I do wonder
What the poetry editor
Eats
For breakfast.

Not over

As we arrive
Into a new space
Of quarantine
May we continue to find
New ways to connect,
Ways that we ignored
Because all of this
Would surely be over
Tomorrow.
Well it's not
Over.
So it is time
To explore
New ways
To become
Again.

Burning season

Plans change.
Whoever thought things
Would stay
The same?
Whoever thought
The world would stop
Spinning?
Cycling around
The sun?
Things change,
Even on this fragile earth
Our island home
This is Burning Season
In Thailand
Who knew I would end up
With two friends
As missionaries
In Thailand?
Whoever thought
I would have friends
Everywhere
On this fragile earth
Our island home?

When is a routine not a routine?

So many ways
To meet
I sit in my chair
Try to get comfortable
Watch the faces
Lined up
Like the Brady Bunch
Hear the Waltons
At the end
Good night
John Boy
The lights go out
We all return
To our own
Routines.
Even the routines
Are different.
When is a routine
Not a routine?

How to connect

How to connect?
We learn new ways
Every day

Even if someone trips us up
On the sidewalk
Six feet away
We learn new ways.

How to connect?
Different platforms
A smile
A wink
A nod
A picture
From China
We are reminded
We are one
We are one
We forget.
Nevertheless
We connect,

No matter what

Cherry blossoms on the table
They could  not wait
I understand Washington
Celebrates the same
Cherry blossoms
Must bloom
Cherry blossoms bloom
No matter what
No matter the snow
No matter
The indoor virus
No matter
What,

Bloom

The cherry branches
On the table they begin
Their bloom potential.

Easy solution

If it were only so easy
As holding a hair dryer
In front of your face
There would have been
A run on hair dryers
Not
On
Toilet paper.

Sit, Rhubarb

Sit down
Think
Consider
Who you might call
In the midst
Of this outbreak.
Watch the rhubarb begin
Its emergence
In the garden bed.
There are many things
To do
Right now
Sit
Think
Consider
Who
Rhubarb.

Cherry blossoms

The cherry blossom branches wait
On the dining room table
They may bloom
By Easter.
There is much waiting
These days.
Some of it mandated
Some of it
Because we are focused
On the world around us.
Meanwhile
The cherry blossoms wait
On the dining room table
They wait.
They may bloom
By Easter

Mostly home

I am mostly home
As you are.
If a phone call
Would make a difference
Let me know
I am mostly home
Too.
These are odd times
For all of us
These are lonely times
For all of us.
It will pass.
Sometimes
We forget
Sometimes
We forget.
It will pass.

Social distance

We learn new skills.
Social distance
Six feet apart
Or more.
Wash hands
Wash them again
And again
And yet
Again.
Use the phone
Disinfect it now
And again
And yet
Again.
New skills.
How do we not
Touch our face
Ever?
Social distance.
Six feet
No
Not five.
Do we meet
With tape measures
Or not at all?

We gather

We gather
We humans
It is the most human thing
We do.
We gather
No matter what
Our profession of faith
No matter what
Our ideology.
We gather
No matter how.
We gather to tell each other
The Story.
Let us not forget
We humans
To gather.

Discuss

What makes
A large gathering?
Who gets to decide?
For now we will watch
The Presiding Bishop
On-line
Maybe make
Individual bread and wine runs
Hold it
To our computer screen
Blessed
Long distance
Hear the same sermon
Discuss
Discuss
Discuss
What do you think?
Whatever was Matthew thinking?
Do you agree with the sermon?
Do you agree with Matthew?
Discuss
Discuss
Discuss
On-line
If need be.

Who to believe?

Church is cancelled
For Sunday
But the conference next week
Is not.
The county has
Its own limits
Now
Do I stay home?
Do I go?
Whose judgment
Is believable?
How many contagious people
Does it take
To stay well?

An ode to the Corona

Don't touch your face
Wash your hands
With soap
And hot water
Don't touch your face
In a pinch
Hand sanitizer
Will do
Don't crowd
The emergency rooms
Realize others
May need them more.
Above all
Don't touch your face.

Animals choose us, if we let them

Animals choose us
The kitten who came out
From under a bush
Chose my beloved.
The Siamese cat
Who chose my son and me.
The shelter cat
Who leapt into
Each of our laps.
The pit bull who leapt
Into the back seat
Of our daughter's car.
Arrived fully trained.
Animals choose us,
If we let them.

Just white

Antique doors
Will never dress up
This less than antique
House
With 32-year-old upholstered
Chairs
Hardly antique
Only
Sort-of-old
We have ordered slipovers
And will need to
Replace doors.
No antiques here
Just white.

Old poetry

An older woman writes poetry
She still comes to terms
With
Older.
There are contests
For older women
Just as there are contests
For younger women.
What's the difference?
Really
What's the difference?
Where's the dividing line?
Twenty
Thirty
Forty
Fifty
Sixty
Seventy
Eighty
Ninety
One hundred?
I creep up to sixty-five.
I write.

The trees consider spring

The trees
Consider spring.
The lawn considers spring
As well
The plants
Have a ways
To go
Before they catch up.
I wait
For the rhubarb patch
To poke its head
Above ground.
It is usually ahead
Of the others
These things
Bear watching

I watch.

I wait.

Cat in sun stripes

Cat in sun stripes
I wonder if we all look better
Clothed in sun.
I think
No
I know
We all look better
In the light.

Slipcover

What if God
Slip-covered the world
More dirt
More grass
More flowers
More everything
Even oceans
With extra fish
What if God began again
Said
Let's begin again
Let's think again
Maybe we will have
Better ideas
This time.

Recliner (not)

My recliner
Reclines no more
It gave up its name
About five years ago
My beloved is sure
He can fix it
So far
No dice.
I have waited
To no avail.
Now I shop
It has taken me
Long enough.

Walker plus preaching

This Sunday
I will preach sitting
On my walker.
This way
People will know
It is possible,
Since this Sunday
Is about
Temptations
It is tempting
To pretend I can stand
And preach
For three services
I can't
No
I can't
Oh,
It is  so tempting

Sleep study

They will study
My sleep.
Determine what
Is required.
Right now everone
Is out to lunch
As if
The whole office
Celebrates Lent
At once
The answering service
Is more than happy
To tell me
To call back
At one.

Today began

Today began
Without ashes.
I eat scrambled eggs
And toast
And salad
For supper.
I know
It is Ash Wednesday
But I still
Celebrate
Yesterday.
I avoid meat.
But not the meal.
I remember
It is Ash Wednesday
Those I see
Bear crosses enough
For me.

Fluff

This morning came
A piece of fluff.
The gifts continue.
Yesterday I was offered
An orange.
Food comes mostly
From India.
Fluff was from the former
Over the road
Truck driver.
The fluff is in a pocket
In my purse.
It will probably stay there.
I did not keep the orange.
The fluff
Yes.

Cat on the keyboard

Cat on the keyboard.
She has no idea
What will be produced
Next.
Cat on the keyboard
xxxxx
pppppp
Now she settles in
For a nap.



































































Cat on the keyboard.
She has no idea
What will be produced
Next.
Cat on the keyboard
xxxxx
pppppp
Now she settles in
For a nap.

Mornings

As I sit in the office
Under the altar
On Tuesdays
I see light
I hear children.
My office mates
Won't see clients
In the morning.
That leaves all mornings
For me.
They don't know
What they are missing
Me?
I cherish the children
The wheels on the bus
Go round and round
Jesus loves me
This I know.
They don't know
What they miss.

One clear weekend

One clear weekend.
My dear one
Is off
In Florida.

One clear weekend.
Me and the cat
Sleep in
And out
And in again.

One clear weekend.
Now I write.
I wonder what
Will come
For the first Sunday
In Lent?
Surely
Something
Will come.
This is not
The first time
I have been here.

One clear weekend,

Every meal is Communion

Every meal is Communion
I learn this
As I sit with friends
Over coffee
Over sweet rolls
It doesn'r have to be
Extensive
Just a bite
Just a sip
Just a word
Every meal is Communion
And then
We are fed.

We women

We come in waves
We women
First a drop of water
Then more drops
Until no one notices
We were
Never there.
We come in waves
We women
Then an ocean
Of course
We have always
Been here
Always
Always
Always
Waves on the ocean
We women.

Saturday is a day to begin again

Last night
I lay in bed
Perused the list
In my head
For the morning.
What should I do
No
What must I do
No
What do I really really want
To do
In the light of morning
After
I share yogurt
With the cat
After
I make coffee.
Then I think
It's Saturday
After all
It will then be time
To begin again.

Cyril and Methodius

In church
Saints Cyril and Methodius
Replace the mythical Valentine
The one who runs
With unicorns
Imaginary hearts
On their horns.
He is so much more
Whimsical
Than the brothers
Who founded
Old Church Slavonic
The language
So few speak.

One more stumble

One more stumble
Yet here I am
Still upright
I can teach
The best of them
The worst of them
How to rise up.
Here we are
Holding each other up
Kin.
Kin.
Kin.
One more stumble
Yet here we are.
Upright.

When things malfunction

When things malfunction
There may be mechanical reasons
Or not
Sometimes
It's easily resolvable
All it takes
Is a trip
To the Apple store
Sometimes not.

Purple hat

When grief takes your hand
Puts a warm purple hat
On your head
Warm purple scarf
Around your neck
Makes sure you don't
Slip and fall
Because of course
Grief
Has assured
Your boots
Have grips
And grief
Has also assured
You have warm purple gloves
So your fingers
Don't
Get
Cold.

Sleep takes over

Sleep takes over
It says
I am in charge
Whether you like it
Or not
So many things
Offer a nap
The waiting room
The cat
In the living room
Her eyes
Half-shut
She does not snore
But she can sleep
In any position
For any length of time
The cat
Under the covers
So many things
Offer
A nap.