Hummingbirds

Hummingbirds suddenly 

seem to be everywhere

Chasing each other

 or hovering over the lavender 

The morning fog rises gently

You are standing in the midst, smiling.

I look at you and start talking

to myself.

You ask why ?

My way of clearing my mind 

sometimes it gets crowded with thoughts.

Don’t you get frightened 

when it gets empty?

Maybe that happens 

when someone you love leaves, 

walks away.

The hummingbirds leave one by one

and my friend

I am alone again.

The fog returns

I feel cold

I linger awhile

before I return home.

note: Books I’m reading: War and Peace. I was persuated by an article about Yiyun Li reading War and Peace once a year. And reading it along with others-Tolstoy Together.

Also reading Inseparable by Simone de Beauvoir.

How to begin

The origin, the seed

how one begins

is not always known.

Leaves filter the light

sometimes luminous lines appear

murmurs arise, slowly fade

you are playing with a cat

noises outside distract your attention

young adults riding bicycles passing 

outside the window are talking loudly

You search your memory

when you were at that age

developing the habit of repetition

riding around town and along the river

your imagination arranging images

the commotion when fishermen arrived at the dock

the boats, smell of the sea, fish, big and small.

You bike back home

like completing a loop in memory

you will listen to the language of the birds

unsurprisingly calming at the end of the day.

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.

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.

Games We Play

I have to learn about cricket

A refrain I have to learn one day

The English game popular in many countries

Unlike planting and harvesting aubergine

And what one can accomplish with dyes is phenomenal

The colors are so vivid

Very easy to understand and compose

That’s how the process of learning got started

I have now a beginner’s knowledge

An individuality and growth

I am more sensible, like learning 

How to use the proper condiments in cooking

Knowledge comes in circles and one can chain them

Not exactly a necklace but can be a bracelet

Very appropriate to wear.

To amuse myself sometimes I create new words and definitions

That’s not allowed in cricket.

Somewhere an owl is sleeping

In a tree in a nearby mountain.

I can’t explain everything

Though may not thrill everyone

But nestled between them is the word, wonderful.

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.

Musings on Sunday After Christmas

Hide in a shelter of trees in the woods and listen to avian conversations, sweet songs and chatter

Serenades in chants of love songs, birds flirting, time phrases

Simultaneous displays of affection

When evening comes, lie down on the meadow to ease you muscle aches and back discomfort

Watch the stars appear ten by ten until you can’t count them anymore

Your brain nudges the hammock of neural synapses connecting lifelines of attention and comfort

The fragrance of grass, beauty of flower garlands open your senses to a new chemistry

The body is intelligent in an unknown way and know what to subtract and add in wholesome well being before you yourself knows what’s happening.

Open space embrace with soothing air and mountain views like a sanctuary as if nature is speaking to you. And understand emotionally what the birds are singing. The secret is not what you imagine but what you feel.

You know you will need tremendous courage to follow your own rules.

Some songs and calls are fading

The birds are facing extinction

Encroachment in their habitats or human neglect

The birds chant offers a sense of place and time and peace

We are losing the outdoors richness when our winged friends leave or die.

Don’t abandon the birds, they are helpless pretty creatures and friends

If you don’t answer your questions you have to find one who can. Don’t presume you are the first one to ask.

WORDLESS THURSDAY

A Day in the Life of

Though I will miss my lunch

I am not hungry to eat yet

I am exuberantly eager to walk to the river

I don’t want to confess I want to see her again 

A woman who walks with a yellow parasol

I do not feel embarrassed I do not speak her language

I feel sad for not learning the language when I was young.

Today is a different day

Everyone wishes “a somewhere to be”

The day when the lockdown begins

The day that nobody wants.

I want focus my attention to the pathway

Lined by sycamore, birch, maple and other trees I can not name

I am still astonished by soft touches of leaves falling on my head

And hearing crackling sound of leaves that I walk on 

A day of circumstances

One blue heron and 4 egrets gathered on the riverbank

All looking at the river

Two sea otters playing diverts also my attention 

Their heads bobbing up and under the water surface

I change my attention to the birds

They also sense my new interest

I experience the birds play of teasing

Two egrets fly away chasing each other.

Then comes a paddle boarder in the river

He bends down pulling back his paddle

Propelling himself down the river

Stands up, bends and paddles on the left

Propels himself forward again

Downstream he will turn around before he is swallowed by the sea

Paddles back to where he starts his day

Robust and happy for his accomplishment

The day may not be of bewilderment

But it is a day of sun but without rain

I’m happy to take photographs and write a poem

About how we live in a worried world

A reality we can change with our untapped power.

note: The book I just finished reading: Dirt by William Buford. Entertaining, funny, French way of cooking. Wonderful.

My Saturday Walk to the River