Category: Seasons
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Buddhista 1
I will buy for you a cedar box, red, fragrant when rain falls, broad and steady, and plant it near the crocuses and the daffodils that were tossed among fresh sprouts of day lilies, and in time, that will sleep under the vigils of June’s deep clematis and our red-then-green- then-red-again maple. And upon it…
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An Easter thought
It does not seem fair in all the measures of life that our heavy ways hang in expectance on these tiny buds just now swelling as if even trifle error could be swept long past by the miracle wrought when young leaves break their cocoons. We are at the gallows, bewildered, then resurrected, by the…
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When the cold wind blows
Does it startle you, shake you from oblivion, draw you to attention, to your fear? Or do you turn away huddled, covering your head and shoulders, shrugging to save all the warmth you can in that last instant before you are swimming in the frigid air, overtaken by a wave capsizing, ripping even your feet…
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Late Sunday prayertime
How the rain pours down with heavy boots on our roof. We hover close to our papers someways happier for the howling outside. Is it so because we feel seasons change and thank the gods? Is it so because we are dry and thank the gods? Or perhaps a shiver drives us thus? It does…
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March 2017
Slowly, slowly life comes back. Hair-fine roots far below the surface muster a wiggle, a stretch, and stir for us the unseen process of life beginning again. But not every capillary wiggles and stretches. Some just as mysteriously have clogged themselves up (been clogged up?) and no longer bring life back, no longer are alive…
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Small endurances
Puddles of snow pool under shrubs – miniature glaciers for voles to cast through. Sparrows, geese, all as one gather round the warmth floating up from the subway grate. Frozen, withered leaves dangle under squirrel’s tiny pads stirring breath in the still air. Here, in a far corner of my heart a soft flutter —…
Poems from in between 