Sometimes doggerel

Different rhythm these days.

Morning:

My beloved reads the comics

Out loud.

I write:

Sometimes doggerel,

Sometimes not.

The kitten chirps

At a light spot

On the wall.

I write:

Sometimes haiku,

Sometimes not.

Another bird

Has found the thistle seed,

It may be a goldfinch.

In winter

It is not gold.

I write:

Sometimes brief,

Sometimes briefer.

I wait for the goldfinch

To show its colors.

My beloved laughs

Out loud.

I write.

Evening yoga

Vacation goals. One of mine was to take individual yoga lessons. My intention at the beginning was "not to have a seizure" afterward. Two sessions: intention realized! My third session is tonight. My intention will include something "more positive." Yay!

Now I have learned

Some

About evening yoga practice.

I’m sure I will not use

The correct language.

This is not my area

Of expertise.

I have learned enough

That I may well continue

When I arrive home.

In my own way

I will do the stretches:

The starfish

The baby cobra

The cobra.

Being me

I will probably make up

A few names

And laugh.

Contemplating Easter

Life does not always carry with it what we expect.  The trick is to recognize Easter here... wherever here is.   Oh yes, we say, oh yes, even here the sun shines through the window, makes a puddle of light on the floor.  Even here the tomb is empty.

The blue and sun enter

Even such sterile places.

We have been here before

And know the life;

It permeates even here,

Maybe especially here.

The tomb is empty.

We have been here before.

We may be here again.

We practice Easter

Four days in

Hear the laughter.

It rolls like so many stones

Large and small,

from the empty tomb,

Even here.

On catching up with an old friend

There are many ways to celebrate my ordination anniversary year.  This may be the best one yet... finding again a friend who I worked and played with during that year back in 1983-84.  Here's to you, Kathleen Busby.  I look forward to more lunches and laughter in the year to come.  

Now it is dark

And almost five 

In the afternoon.

I did not write

This morning.

Over lunch

We shared just enough history

To catch up,

To realize again 

We have not changed

Substantially.

Neither of us.

Now we are free

To go on

From here.

For Kurt, now gone

This is for Father Kurt Olson, my field education supervisor in seminary in the early eighties.  He died over the weekend while waiting to be well enough for bypass surgery.  He never had the bypass surgery, but I know he is completely healed, and singing in his beautiful tenor voice.  Now he has a renewed vision of eternal life.  

There are things

I never forgave you for:

The vision of heaven

With bishops in the inner ring,

God, of course, in the center.

Priests held hands,

The next ring out.

We will not note

What this vision says

For everyone else.

There are things

I never quite forgave you for,

A few things.

Now that you are gone,

You truly know

What happens Next.

I picture you laughing.

You,

Most likely,

Still have a laugh

Big as the all outdoors.

Here

On the other side of the veil,

I laugh with you.

I remember you laid your hands

On my head,

Wanted me to be

The first woman

You helped ordain.

Here

On the other side of the veil

I laugh with you.

Here
On the other side of things
All is forgiven.

Carry on

I love what I do.  It is loads of fun.  Even in the midst of difficulties and pain and sorrow and confusion, there is often laughter in the midst.  Dare I say it?  It is fun.  It is joyful.  In this spot under the altar and next to the nursery school I am having fun.  Fun seems a frivolous word.  Still...fun involves play and laughter and occasional pure silliness.

I am having

Way too much fun.

Perhaps this means

I was not having

Enough fun before.

I do not know

If there is some sort

Of fun quota

Allowed

Permitted

Perhaps required?

Is there a measure

For fun?

How will I know

When enough is enough?

I suspect

I won*t ever have to worry

About the measure.

Carry on,

Catharine,

Carry on.

Then

Carry on some more.