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Posts Tagged ‘patience’

Weatherman

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on August 25, 2012| 4 Comments »

It touches everything,
the fog, each tree, each
home, each shoulder,
each street, and drapes
us with uncertainty. It
blurs our lines and softens
the boundary where one thing
ends and another begins—
the boat and the water, the peach
and the branch, the farmer and
the farmer’s wife. Why prefer
a clarity, an empty blue bell-ringing
sky when the fog, it holds
us all so unconditionally.
It will be clear
soon enough.

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The Deeper Lesson

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on March 21, 2012| 5 Comments »

Somewhere a door
is hinging—open and
less open and not

at all open and open.
All day I feel it.
All day, I know

there is not a thing
I can do about that swinging
except notice how the light

changes, notice how soft
the breeze, and how cold,
notice how the urge

to do something about
that door rises and
and passes, notice

how the sun breaks through.

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I Used to Think Talking Was the Only Answer

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on March 12, 2012| 5 Comments »

In silence
everything
is possible.

Our words,
enwombed,
could become

honey,
could sprout wings,
or (imagine)

could shape themselves
as just the right words
that fall out at just

the right time.

Or, perhaps,
it’s that silence
does the work

that words
can’t do,
linking us

to nothing,
which is
everything.

I give you
silence.

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We’re Not Ready Till We’re Ready Haiku

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , on March 11, 2012| 3 Comments »

eruption of crocuses—
that old brittle oak leaf still
not ready to fall

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Lessons from the Apricots

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , on February 29, 2012| 4 Comments »

The buds swell
till the shuck
breaks
but we
are not there
yet.

Inside, petals,
crushed and clenched
tiny fists pushing
against what
for so long
has protected them.

It is better
not yet
to bloom.
Better to remain
closed until
the days do
what days do,
lengthen and push back
the edges of cold.

It is cold.
It is cold.
White comes.
I grow old.

The opening comes
when it comes,
and when it whitely comes
there are no guarantees
that it will not freeze again.

But for now,
what is soft
leaps against
what is hard
and there is
infinite potential
for
sweetness.

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Haiku: Five Miracles

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , , , , , , , , on February 2, 2012| 1 Comment »

It would take weeks
to walk to your house, still
our hearts so close.

*

This morning I ski
into the woods—forty years
later I ski out.

*

The snow did not stop
when I said stop, but it did
not fall forever.

*

Across the lake
invisible in the trees,
the crow in my ear.

*

That ripple
never travels and it is
always new water.

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Go On

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , on October 4, 2011| 1 Comment »

When she asked me
to lead the closing chant,
Dolores taught me the tune
and the words, but told me
nothing more. I taught the song
to the rest of our circle,
and we sang it once,
twice, three times, four.
And I signaled the end
with an open hand, raised,
worried that people might
already be bored
with the simple words and tune.
Afterward, Dolores
pulled me aside. “You ended
too soon,” she chided,
“We were just beginning.”
How often do we stop
ourselves before the magic begins,
when dancing, when chanting,
when sitting still. When
running up the long, dirt hill.
When playing legos on the floor.
When loving, when weeping,
when watching the canyon
for the eagle’s wing.
How often do we miss
an experience by rushing
toward completion?
I no longer remember
the words to the song,
nor the tune, nor who
was there. But Dolores’s words
I remember well. We
are just beginning.

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Bare Soled

Posted in Uncategorized, tagged , , , , on September 6, 2011| 1 Comment »

oh mountain
that I have tried
to climb for years, is that you
in the silt of this river
where I am wading?

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