for Sherry
in a time of thorns
finding the smallest joy—
making a room in it
big enough
we can all slip in
Posts Tagged ‘joy’
One Art
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged connection, joy, poem, poetry, room on December 16, 2018| 2 Comments »
Dear __________,
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged communion, conspiracy, joy, peace, poem, poetry, unity on October 18, 2018| 4 Comments »
You are warmly invited to join our conspiracy of joy,
a growing cabal of strangers and friends who collude
to create delight, who initiate random acts of bliss, who
scheme of ways to help all others find authentic jubilance,
who tear down walls that would separate us and them.
If you enjoy such subterfuge, there certainly is room
for you. To be clear, you may be charged with pleasure,
ecstasy, and truth. Next meeting, now. And now. And now
Poem Not About Fruit Flies
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged fruit flies, joy, poem, poetry on September 14, 2017| Leave a Comment »
Once there’s one, you know
that there are hundreds to follow
hiding in and amongst everything,
next to impossible to eradicate—
some things seem to come
in great abundance.
May joy be one.
Odd Joy in Paradox Valley
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged Bedrock, joy, poem, poetry, song on March 15, 2017| 2 Comments »
Driving through Bedrock,
population 14, I remember
sitting on the stoop of the general store
and asking Rose to come out from behind the counter
and sing me a song about sorrow.
Crazy how a sad song could make me
so happy. Crazy how every time I drive by
I still smile to think of her voice,
soaring as the red rock cliffs,
haunting as the windows shuttered and dark.
With the Sound of Birds in the Trees
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged joy, poem, poetry, sunshine on January 29, 2017| Leave a Comment »
One minute you’re sitting on the porch
in the warm morning sun and ten minutes later
it’s been an hour or more and you have forgotten
your name, forgotten the year, forgotten
who’s president, all that you know is the sky
has never been so clear and your body
has never been this starved for blue—the way
it steeps so deeply into you that by the time
you enter yourself again, you forget to wonder
how to make this radiance last,
can’t imagine you could ever feel
any other way.
Window
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged darkness, joy, poem, poetry, wushdan on January 24, 2017| 5 Comments »
In dark times it is sometimes hard
to speak of joy—not because
it doesn’t exist but because
of the guilt in feeling it.
The dark clots our arteries,
it keens in our ears, floods the streets.
Still, my friend sends me a word—
wushdan. It’s pronounced like swush,
she says, not swoosh. Wushdan.
I say it aloud, and the syllables
hush my tongue. It means,
she says, “heart awareness,
conscience,” as in a practice
of inner discipline. Wushdan,
I say again, as if to speak a word
is to know the secrets harboring
inside it for centuries.
The root, says my friend, is wush,
which is Persian, means joy.
It feels as if someone
has slipped me a piece of chocolate
in math class during a test.
Or as if, while reading
the headlines of war I look out
the window and see the big brown eyes
of a doe looking unwaveringly
into mine. And I put the paper down
and watch out the window
until the light is gone.
One More Step
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged joy, poem, poetry, running on September 10, 2016| Leave a Comment »
One Saturation
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged joy, poem, poetry, present on May 22, 2016| 1 Comment »
Four Surprise Joys
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged joy, poem, poetry on March 12, 2016| 2 Comments »
steep, this trail—
one more reason to pause often
and notice how beautiful
*
the same rich tea—
drinking it from different cups
together
*
without looking
I find you—
unexpected sun
*
sunset so pink
the mind undoes another button—
the whole world blushes
The Short List
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged joy, poem, poetry on February 8, 2015| 4 Comments »
It can be so simple,
what gives us joy.
The trace of green
in winter grass.
The scent of ginger.
A slip of a forgotten song
that returns to the lips.
A lemon cookie
sweet and tart.
And another one, too.
The feeling that
there are a million million
small sources of joy,
and the day, though
it’s finite, is not
yet over.
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