Posts Tagged ‘wonder’




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.




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One Continuation



returning from the journey,

as if the return isn’t also

a journey—

as if this journey called home

isn’t also riddled with wonder, surprise

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wind so strong

the only part of me unwhipped

is my wonder

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clinking my glass

with god—a toast


to the little green leaves

beneath the dead brush—


neither of us is surprised,

but dang, ain’t it grand

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One Rattling




at the gates of wonder,

begging to be let in, not knowing

we are already there

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pages dog eared

and spine broken, this old book

holds no less wonder

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fairy house on the san miguel

Will it work? says the girl,
when I hand her the magic dust
to sprinkle on the fairy house we’re building
out of sticks and stems and rocks.

Why wouldn’t it work? I say, dropping
more of the tiny red weed seeds
into her open hand. She doesn’t argue with me then,
only keeps her hand extended so I will sprinkle

more magic dust into her palm.
I can tell she doesn’t totally believe me.
I can tell that I wish she did. Oh the sad advent
of being purely practical. I am open

to believing improbable things.
I am tired of math and the same problem
never adding up. I could use a little magic.
I don’t mind if I need to make it up myself.

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Gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.
—G.K. Chesterton

Standing in the field of golden blooms
it is easy to feel happiness. So bright,
after all, and such an abundance! Oh yellow!

Yellow all nodding and splayed! And then, well, happy
of course, because it is not my yard, and dandelions
are undeniably weeds. You know, the rubbery leaves.

The way they squeak underfoot when you walk.
The way that after a week or two they turn into gray seed
and proliferate successfully, as weeds do. It’s harder then,

once all the white wishes are spent and the hollow
stems stand naked and dull, harder to believe
that the pilgrims brought them to this land on purpose.

So many things are just this way—vibrant
for such a short season. But don’t fast forward. Admire
how they grow almost everywhere, from the Arctic Circle

to sub-Antarctica. That alone is cause for wonder.
Today, couple wonder with gold, miles and miles
of golden sway, and that, my friends,

makes for this curious tide of gratitude that rises
out of who knows where in the body and makes us want
to run out into the field and become the field

and wade in the gold and weave ourselves into the current.
Who could believe in a clock? Who could believe
there is anything to do in this moment but meet it and play?

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Eight Failings

But remember,
it is by failures that lovers
 stay aware of how they are loved.
Failure is the key
 to the kingdom within. Your prayer should be, “Break the legs 
of what I want to happen. Humiliate 
my desire. Eat me like candy.
It’s spring and finally 
I have no will.”
—Rumi, Mathnawi, III, 4391 – 4472)

both legs broken—
still this desire to crawl
on my hands


wanting to send
a dozen long-stemmed


thrown into the ring


walking five paths
never taking
a single step


pulling back
the veils of the heart—
your footprint


not looking
for an answer—
so she said


beside the sunflowers
naked except
this strand of what ifs


sweet failure

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in honor of W-week at Mountain Sprouts Preschool

One Wednesday, I went a-walking
to make a wish on a star,
but because it was day
no stars lit my way.
so I wished on whatever I saw.

I wished on the wimpling wing
of a black bird perched on a wire.
I wished on a worm
and a wheel that turned
and a window that gaped ajar.

I wished on a white-seeded weed
that whirled on the whistling wind.
I wished on the woods
growing near where I stood
and I wished on a willow’s bend.

And I had so much fun a-walking
and looking for places to wish
that I went and forgot
the wish that I’d thought
was the most importantest.

Instead I found hundreds of wonders—
the water, the weather … Wa-hoo!
I remember! My wish
was to find happiness,
and wow, my wish came true.

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