Sunny Day

63 degrees, sunny, the tide is going upstream

Maybe 

the scope of your vision is narrow,

the field is wide, memory may falter,

movement, persistence, diminishes

distance between remembering,

words will come in baskets

no barren day or empty life

even dreams have voices

do not cease 

to take care of yourself

Rise, go, where nature lives.

Musing

What are cruel works for man?

The siren paves a way

rage to be heard

or hurry to offer remedy

someone cries for help

arrival then silence

Start of another story 

One may not walk away

drastic alteration of meanings

the grief rises when 

one doesn’t listen

but invisible energy emerges

when someone cares

After all this thinking

I arrive at a camp at Lake Millinockett

to fish for brown trout.

note: The book I’m reading: When Things Fall Apart by Pema Chodron

Glance

The cat looks quizzical at the orchid on the table

I can offer understanding

The orchid, beautiful and frail

What does the cat think?

Simple or capricious question

One can devote a lifetime to answer

Observe what’s happening in one’s environment

Symmetry and differences can bring,

Even to an ordinary mind, an insight

Or become attached to one interpretation

Unnecessarily and slow the progress

Even a disagreement can be a cooperation

One glance can open an ocean.

Lives of Others

An orphan she has 

Few stories to tell, few attachments

How could she show passion,

Or care for someone

But she knows where ripe plums are, 

Which mushrooms are edible

Where to find spring water, safe and crystal clear

How to be resourceful

Habit and prudence and street smart

She starts learning the constellations,

Learns how to be afraid and be calm

She looks at the flowering vines,

Sleeps like an owl and wakes up 

To her full height, realizes

Distances between trees, between her

And trees, her and others

She is a distance of her own.

Things she cherishes, go away

Teaches her gratitude.

Her beautiful eyes say, thank you.

note: The book I’m reading: Ten keys to Reality by Frank Wilczek.

I will have surgery on my right ear next week. The discomfort is tolerable at the present time.

Sometimes I have to take some analgesics.

LIFE TRAVELS

Traveling for so many days

435 bridges and 234 tunnels

Losing landmarks and diverting to side excursions

A lavish description of arriving somewhere

After getting lost

Like newlyweds entering their first house

Whatever the sizable differences are 

They can be traced to algorithms

Like sentences they have to learn because they are new

After awhile they can talk and understand

The end is an accomplishment

Carried by patience and time.

They are foreign to each other

Like a blinding snowstorm before beginning of summer

Afterwards seasons go uninterrupted, seem seamless

Though there are days of grief

Some days of longing, others of mirth

Ambiguity eases into familiar themes

They arrive to a place they understand

Life changes gradually into bliss

Remembering words of Aristotle

We yearn to reach the good at the end.

Moments

Moments move our emotions, our life

How can I move like time

I am a humble hummingbird

Hovering over flowers until I am out breath

There is wisdom in the stones I will not know

Or a camaraderie with bees I will not experience

Where can I go my friend to touch the warmth of time

Perhaps I can find a child who will want a lullaby

My wings can sing her a song.

CHOICES

“Joy like a river in her soul”, words of a young boy

Sharing his mother’s state of being. 

A town nestled next to a river

How does one tear down and build anew?

River dredging begins Flood Control Master Plan.

Town awakens, sounds of bulldozers and cranes, 

People wearing helmets working

Design to demolish, preserve, develop, convert

Empty complexes, aging structures, dormant land 

Long deliberations in what the town needs:

Hotels, shops, restaurants, or something abstract

Community park in summer turns flood diversion space in winter.

Building a promenade on riverfront, 

Passageway along railroad tracks,

Connecting Vine Trail, continuity without impediments

Collaboration with artists and role of the arts,

A time for coffee and twisted cinnamon rolls.

One accent, the Passages, a segment of passageway 

Once a haven for graffiti’s passion and restlessness

Now a channel for artistic expressions,

Vivid, vibrant, living project

Come, look, linger, get involve.

Walking home I hum a Dave Brubeck’s tune

I prepare smoked salmon and cream cheese sandwich, 

A bowl of peach yogurt and blackberries for lunch.

I take my time. I do not eat with haste.

Like town dreamers, like my friends

I, too, have choices and concerns

Should I join the frenzy of high technology

Pulsing reminders of “constantly possible productive moments”

Or walk with artists and pilgrims in shared humanity

Learn value of life, bear the task, persevere?

In my solitary walk, my mind can’t remain still

How will the young boy paint the river?

Let image follow imagination like spells of delight

Art’s idea whispers, shouts, bends then leaps to clarity

A journey of praise of what one truly loves.

In art and life, one will leave one day, the other stays.

I will write my praise.

Into The Woods


Foggy brain and random words

Introduced me to forest bathing 

And being friendly with my neighbors

Walking in the woods makes me more attentive to sounds and light

Breathing fresh air with fragrance of trees and streams

My emotions calm down

I start feelings of gratitude

Each breath becomes easier and more regular

I feel connected to the world again

I can look at my pain and losses

Not wishing them to go away

But to go through them

And face them with gratitude

Every day is a new day

Appreciative of small and simple things

Like breathing, walking, dawn.

note: flowers I saw during my walk to the river today.