Gaze

Walking, the deer gently stops, 

tilts its head to one side,

a blossom falling on a stream

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.

Distractions

Should I listen to others

who want to change me?

They have more imagination than me

I might have been influenced by some

but by persuasion, not by dictation

I listen, observe and decide on my own

Until she comes reciting her poetry like a song 

I forget I have a pain in my ear, need a biopsy.

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.

Retreat

Sitting by a creek inside a forest

Your notebooks spread out

Over stones and ferns

Sounds of tiny waterfalls accompany your thoughts

The dimension of your existence opens before you

Oneness of spirit, wholeness one song.

On the porch, one day

Someone leaves a small heart-shape  wood carving,

Another day, a sketch of fiddleheads

Or a haiku

Kindness from unknown neighbors

Who will later introduced themselves

Retreat in the woods

Finding new friends threaded with similar

Attitude of solitariness

Learning how to be present

In the moment, to attend

Slowing of time

A time to feel and touch the earth again

With its ecstasy and pain.

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.

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.

Wet and Dry

Today was a very sad for our country. An “insurrection” breached the U.S. Capitol which was eventually repulsed.

We had a very good rain On Monday. Yesterday I walked to the river. It rained again today.

Last few weeks I watched chess tournaments on line. During the last a few days I started to play chess with a friend. 

I have a hard time writing poetry recently.