Done Deal

They said it was a done deal. There’s nothing he can do.

How long I said?  Very soon they said.

But, isn’t that our sentence too?

We live our lives as in a dream where no one ever dies,
haunted by the certainty of our very own demise.

They say it is a done deal.  There's nothing I can do.

How long I said?  Who knows they said?

Acorns

I once called a people my own
blanketing their hills like manna from heaven.
Ground and purified, I gave my life for them.
Today, I'm left on the ground to rot,
a savior to the squirrels alone,
broken and crushed underfoot by strangers,
Neglected and forgotten like the people I once knew.

Fairies

There are fairies in my yard.  I've seen them with my own eyes. 

Sometimes it's only a glint of emerald or a glimmer of ruby 

as they dip and dart and dance through the air. 

At other times, they hover like tiny drones right in front of the kitchen window, 

full of dazzling color and fairy charm, 

winking at me between sips from the flowering quince. 

And just before sunrise, when I go out for the morning paper, 

I hear fairy voices calling from the bottle brush tree. 

Sometimes, it seems like they're talking to me.

Cancer

A speck of sawdust was his only clue

a tiny speck in the corner, almost overlooked,

detritus of a subterranean swarm that was 

silently laying waste to the woodwork.

But all the while he never knew, until

the speck of sawdust pushed through.

Sensing You

I don't need a voice to sing Your praise
In the silence, I hear you speak
When I close my eyes, I still see Your face
You touch me without hands

I taste the sweetness of Your words
Your presence, like incense, soothes my soul.

Your Spirit awakens my senses.

Full Moon Heart

Oh to have a full moon heart 

not tilted away or eclipsed by shadows

but fully exposed to the piercing rays

A polished mirror, an orange ball of fire

Shining bright in an ocean of darkness

Morning praise

Three things fill my mornings with wonder.
Four things turn my heart to praise.
The triumphant screech of the barn owl returning to her nest.
The faithful call of the morning train arriving at the station.
The silent slide of the moon and the stars as they give way to
The sun rising in glory.

The Unheralded Listener

Have you ever had a conversation with a mockingbird?  Good luck.
It surely would be a one-sided affair, for day and night this mimic sings.
His playlist is an endless loop of annoyance, or so it seems.
But when I consider his songs, I wonder?
How did he learn to carry the tune of the hawk, the robin, the finch, or the crow?
And isn't it amazing that he can even mimic a dog or a siren or a train?
How can he sing what he hasn't heard?
Maybe he is a better listener than I thought.

The Lonely Watcher

I see her nearly every morning standing still as a statue near the edge of the creek, wearing a straw hat and a dark sweater that stretches down to her knees. She's always in a different location, sometimes standing on the bridge above the creek, and sometimes down by the water's edge,as if wanting to see things from a different perspective. Once, on a cold morning, I saw her exhale a long puff of smoke, and glanced down to see a cigarette hanging between her fingers, the only time I saw any sign of life. What draws her to this morning ritual of stillness? What treasures are worth her undivided attention? I imagine she could speak of the hummingbird hovering just above the creek, and the turtle sunning on the log, and the burrowing owl staring out from the bank. She could tell us about the smell of the bottlebrush and the eucalyptus tree, and the call of the mourning dove, and the buzz of the bumblebee, and a thousand other things that we miss in the rush and the noise of our busy world.

Poets

I am always amazed by those
     who can play words like a piano
          or limn the very thoughts of my heart on paper
               enchanting my senses to rise
                    like a wave that crests and slowly curls and then

               crashes to the shore
            spreading beautiful shells 

         along the sands of my memory,
      glimpses of the power and mystery

   of the world around me.

True Greatness

Sometimes greatness is overlooked because it whispers and does not seek an audience, but oh how they flock to the crashing cymbal and flashy display.   One shell is empty. The other contains a pearl that seldom is seen by our star struck eyes.

This is why I listen

First I hear the "tap, tap, tap, tap" in rapid succession,
followed by the shrill, parrot-like call.
I stand perfectly still, eyes darting back and forth,
hoping to catch a glimpse of my friend at work.
Long moments of waiting are rewarded
by a flash of red vanishing around the tree trunk.
I remain still, hoping he will reappear, and
sure enough he returns to my side of the tree,
upside down and clinging straight-backed to the slender branch,
 his chisel-like beak working swiftly.
Something startles him and off he goes,
all black and white flashes on his roller coaster flight.
This is why I listen.

Senses

Sometimes I can taste with my nose or
  see with my ears or
hear with my eyes or
smell with my touch.
My senses blend together, like teammates on the pitch,  
ebbing and flowing and overlapping down the field
Yet each one stands alone, uniquely gifted for its purpose.

Music everywhere

This morning I hear music all around me

like sections in a symphony, nature’s rhapsody.  
The dove’s pianissimo, accompanied by crows, and

sparrows and warblers like woodwinds in flight.

Dig the woodpecker’s staccato beat, the

timpani voice of the valley oak and

the arboretum's coronet forte, radiant with color, freshening the air.

The sun rising in majesty, and the moon taking a bow,

and me biking down the path singing the mockingbird’s solo.

Birdsong

Consider the birds.
All day long they're singing.
I wonder if they ever have a bad day?
Are they ever disappointed?  Discouraged?
Do they ever grow weary of their toil?        
Surely their life is not without hardship and pain,
Yet still I hear them singing their cheerful song.
Maybe they know something that I don't know.
Perhaps there's something to learn from the birds.