driving south
through the mountains
watching the moonrise—
and around each corner,
thrilling as it rises again, again, again,
feeling luckier each time—
meeting the self
like that
Posts Tagged ‘moon’
Imagine
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged driving, meeting the self, moon on February 28, 2021| 1 Comment »
On a Full Moon Night
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged bird, bird song, moon, owl on February 27, 2021| 2 Comments »
The three-note song of the owl
opens the night
with a single repeated note.
Hoo hoo hoo.
Listening for the song again,
I find myself opening to silence.
Then there it is:
Hoo hoo hoo.
Scientists say
the owl is sending a message:
This is mine,
my territory, my space.
But instead of being repelled,
I’m pulled in.
I sing back to the owl
three resonant notes.
Hoo hoo hoo.
Not to stake my territory.
More out of admiration
for the power of a simple song.
It teaches me to trust
what is artless,
how sometimes simplicity
is what allows others, like me,
to sing along.
Permission
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged brokenness, moon, softening on December 30, 2020| 5 Comments »
Funny on a full moon night
I think about brokenness.
After fifty years of proving
entropy with my life, with
my thoughts, some part of me
still wants to believe in perfection.
I’ve never once thought the moon
any less perfect for being partial.
Tonight, I give myself permission
to be broken. As if I could help it.
But something in the permission
lets me relax, lets me soften
as if I’m covered with moon-drunk snow.
Lets me soften like Erik Satie played low.
Let me see you, the moon seems to say,
just as you are. And I step outside
and the moon slips in.
One Illumining
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged moon, night, silence on June 27, 2020| Leave a Comment »
One Almost Light
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged connection, dark, moon on February 13, 2020| Leave a Comment »
One More Moon Poem (How Many Moon Poems Can One Woman Write??)
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged moon, poem, poetry on October 14, 2019| Leave a Comment »
amber moon rise—
the heart, as if seeing it for the first time,
gives a standing ovation
Letter to Emily in October
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged emily dickinson, moon, place, poem, poetry, sacred on October 13, 2019| Leave a Comment »
They say you left your house just once
in your last fifteen years—
you slipped alone through veil of night
to see a new-built church.
And rumor says the moon was full
when you escaped your walls—
you had no need for candlelight,
the evening led you well.
Tonight round shines the Hunter’s moon—
so dazzling is the dome
that all the world feels like a church
and night itself a poem.
Perhaps that’s what you understood
and lost your need to leave—
each room, each place is holy
and has a gift to give.
Awake at Midnight
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged communion, moon, poem, poetry, shoveling, snow, winter on February 20, 2019| Leave a Comment »
The snow was light and the moon was near full,
and the shovels skated across the drive.
The rest of the world was asleep
except for the shoveler and her shovels and the moon.
The snow was light and her thoughts were quiet,
quiet like leafless cottonwood trees
with branches that tangled with the forward moon.
There are nights when though we are alone
we are not alone,
nights when the darkness doesn’t seem so dark,
nights when our work feels not like work
and we step out of our homes, then out of ourselves,
and we are somehow unsurprised
by the way everything shines.
One Stuck
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged inner struggle, moon, poem, poetry on February 18, 2019| Leave a Comment »
Several Hours Before Dawn: Another Moon Poem
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged hope, moon, poem, poetry, wonder on January 3, 2019| 2 Comments »
It appears still, the crescent moon,
but it’s moving at 2,288 miles per hour,
its light reaching us in less than two seconds.
This morning, we marvel at it, as if
we’d never seen moon before, its light
somehow touching us newly.
And though we are dashing down
the highway at fifty-eight miles per hour,
watching the moon, I feel something
in me quiet and still. Years ago, a friend told me
it was time to stop writing moon poems.
How to stop when each time
we see the moon, something new in us rises
to meet it? May we always write moon poems,
whether or not anyone reads them.
May we always marvel at the light
and shadow so far past our reach
and yet travelling with us
every day, every night. May it always feel
important, like hope, impossible to touch
and so real, so true.