Moon Rising

 What we do around here

Today I counted catkins on the aspens in the front of the house

sat on the front porch with my dog

doing a credible imitation of an old person 

decided what I need is a pair of rocking chairs

a wider porch 

and ukulele lessons

The hostas have reappeared in the back 

under the trellis

awaiting the burst of wisteria 

you know those things are going to race off like the mad vines they are

year three they say

I believe it

Tonight is half planned out

Spanish music 

pan fried corn tortillas 

left over Iberian pork bits

Amy’s green chile refried beans

lanterns and string lights

in the outdoor room

tequila and worm salt on orange slices

Sitting outside gets better as the seasons roll into the hot weather

after the hanging baskets are renewed

wildflowers burst out of the naked ground

Tonight is the Pink Moon on the rise

blooming full flower moon anticipates those pale sunset hues 

it comes to me that growing into the eighth decade

is accurately the time of the spirit

joining with the cycles of the seasons

stepping to the tune of the planet

for if we don’t know her by now

do you think we will ever ever know her

#fullmoon

#NaPoWriMo 

#bonus

Song for a Spring Morning

 

                          A C D Em G Bm B

                          pear in blossom 

                          promise of lilacs

                          music in my head and heart

When still a child 

I mourned having been born outside 

the age of miracles

But slowly the elixir of the undaunted spirit

seeped back in

it is expressed in these chords

tender as fresh new leaves

yearning into warming sunlight

tendrils reaching out to my friend

I may never sit on her porch 

suffused with the golden light

that always bathed her

hearing her sweet tea phrases birthed of small southern towns

if there are miracles in the wings

though

I will surely find my way there

we will sip whiskey

throw back our heads 

laugh until every wild bird

joins in the raucous cacophony 

major and minor within calamity

uncertainty in b flat

unbound in grace notes

#NaPoWriMo

#43things

#friendsforever

Dog power

 We have been out already this morning

She, I, and her quasi sibling brother dog

There was the appalling pre-dawn bark fest

there was outing redux 

once is never enough

Now back in the cozy bed

back in the barely awake room

she brings live wire energy 

right to my face 

lest I contemplate too long 

the brevity of being

the parade of souls marching out of my life

she brings full life force directly to the foreground

she keeps me in these moments 

acquiescing now to a respite of peacefulness 

her low throaty compliant sounds

express contentment with simply being 

here with us

#NaPoWriMo

#loveofdogs

Still dreaming of discovery

There is a sandy crescent with happy ocean waves

greenish ever moving seas

grassy dunes

it was there the summers before I grew up

rolled out their promises 

In the spaces between not quite cold beers

between sunburns 

diving into the cresting swells

I might imagine a typewriter in New York City

pages of a novel stacked nearby 

cigarette balanced on a glass ashtray that said Monte Carlo

first rejection letter framed above the dresser 

it would be a studio somewhere 

amongst other writers 

some struggling not yet famous artist’s work upon the wall

How odd that crescent beaches dotted the years to swiftly pass

no Monte Carlo ashtray

New York City turned out to be that place where words stand in line

elevators eat up your imagination 

even the wealthy frown and struggle

Here, in an undefined stretch of time

I thought yesterday of Lillian Hellman who tore leaves of courage from her own pages and handed them to me

today, the goodbyes to a friend whose journey is completing in a moment

love for a friend who survived heart surgery 

had he not, the loss would have been deeper than that ocean 

Rather than a sandy crescent

here is a sinuous meandering sandy riverbank

no curling waves

nor grassy dunes

rather the towering cottonwoods 

wearing their riparian chartreuse spring foliage

No Algonquin round table but something else

torn notebook pages limned with the courage of individual truth

sandy moonlike beaches and turquoise seas 

beneath our fingers

our community of the screen 

longing for the room 

the circle where the alchemy happens

#NaPoWriMo

#chartreusemusings

#bigislandwriters

#southwestwriters

Spring at home

The dogs have busied themselves in the slant light garden of early day

daffodils still upright while the organic treat of freshly dug grass shows itself irresistible 

Each tree has been examined for fresh signs of spring

magnolia flowers nearly spent 

pear and apple in bud

fuzzy oak twig ends

lilac tips showing their petal colors

lone finch flies food to fountain

Home awaits with comforting arms open to receive the weary travelers

jazz piano and saxophone 

here in the mid morning 

my shoulders suggest more sleep would be just the thing

There is a secret I had learned but tucked too deeply away

it is this

we are a part of the garden 

in the winter down time our homes are our earth 

holding us inside 

awaiting the full faced sunlight

the fast growing green grass

honeyed cascades of jasmine

meadow lark canticle 

fleshy fig silken rose 

I see a pair of goldfinches 

shaking their feathers 

the season is preparing its dandelion apothecary 

I am ready

#NaPoWriMo

#springtralala

What can we do

 They took their prayers and made them visible

a million bright flags of silken wishes

of course the lost children came through

angry wanting to be seen too

wanting to be heard 

eager to be acknowledged 

in a flurrious fury of winds 

they lifted splintery roofs

overturned school buses

grown ups scurried to reclaim the pieces 

marked themselves safe

some howled in defeat

thrusting flowers into gun barrels

there was silent laughter

somewhere

in the profound despair

#NaPoWriMo

#endgunviolencetogether

For David

The day will come when the dark cloud envelopes whoever you love more than the feel of sunlight

The night will come when the somber shadows wrap up the light for one final time 

We remind ourselves of this so that one day or one night when that abyss is at our feetwe remember we are all visitors to this place

we do not pass like trains on their tracks

we linger in our gardens

we pause within the embrace of our walls 

waft of fresh breeze and we recall

holding hands in the meadows 

the time comes when we let go

pressed petals and butterfly wings

tonight we will have supper

light candles

sort memories touch skin to skin as temporary survivors carving our initials into the twilight 

with love