SUMMER TIME DRIFTING

Dark sky blue shot cloud white,
scud along to wind song.

Quacking aspens lyric dance,
sighing embrace of indigo night.

(c) 10.10.97

GRANDFATHER RAVEN

Grandfather Raven sitting in that tree
Caw, caw, cawing. Laughing at me,
working for a living.

Stupid child.
Laugh, do what you want,
fly wind,
he says.

Food from claw to beak,
what more do you seek?
Shelter for tomorrow?
Knowledge of next week?

Rise above your troubles
fly upon the wings
of little joys, and beautiful things.
In this, peace doubles,
just ask hummingbird.

Come visit me when you have more sense,
you work too much, it makes me wince.
If you choice to be wise
and grow old like me
stop chasing the dollar
and live to be free.

(c) 8.31.98

I was a flagger for the county for 7 or 8 months this year. This was a poem inspired by a huge old raven on the last day of this job. The best thing about this job was seeing the animals and birds everyday. Spending time out doors. I kept a journal with all the animals I saw.

CLOAK OF ASK

You came to earth, free authentic, Original Self,
fire bright, heart of gold, wild mind,
knowing soul. Eager. Playful. Curious.
Believing life Utopian, all of like kind.

Soon enough dark lightening struck.
By look or word or deed unmeant... or meant.
Cut, slash, slap, smash, indrawn breath of shock.
Small child's wounded Self shrinking into ego bent.

Stripped of glory you took up Cloak of Ash,
garment of Self forgetting, rainbows hidden in the grey,
lost to larger light and life, muffling song of joy,
fallible, falling, shattering, day by day.

Your bright way swallowed up in smoke
and ash of multi-faceted deceptions,
sleepwalking blind through heaven
holding tight to one view mispreceptions.

Clinging to those things by which you hide
from what you cannot face,
because you judge your naked truth
beyond any one's embrace.

Turn, face back the way you came...

Remember again, at your core, you are gold,
face the flame of fire's refining,
take up glory cloak with its golden lining
live life authentic, wild and free. Go Bold.

(c) 11.11.01

MOTHER

Woman with feet planted
in the earth.
Solid, steady, dependably present.
Sheltering as a tree.
Refreshing as green, and brown
and Spirit blue.

Heart not bound to earth
for all its earthiness.
The essence of her like
a small brown sparrow,
clever and wise,
hiding in the feather's
of the Great Eagle,
riding higher than her
own strength could carry.

A soul longing for the heights
of its cobalt home. The wider
view of all to see, gazing
on the treasures of God.
Eyes feasting with joy
on the vision of the
simply elegant connection.
Love.

Twin homed.
Body - Earth. Spirit - God Heart.
Essence fully comfortable
to nest in self with
forgiving wholeness.
Knowing herself a treasure.
Peaceful compassion knowing
you a treasure, and me.

Her life's pain transforming
to larger meaning - over and over
again.

Her completeness draws
me to renewal, in the face
of all mistakes, and fears.

Her love encourages to
hide myself in the feathers
of the Great Eagle,
and ride
the winds
of Heaven.


(c) 5.3.02
The first year after mother died, this was written as part of a Mother's Day celebration which I was a part of.

GLASS PAGODA

Little glass pagoda adorning the knoll,
four broad windows illuminating soul.

Vision waits on the crest of the hill,
a lovely spot, made for simply being still.

To look, to feel ...
remember what's real.

Loved ones,
sunrise,
flowers,
blue sky's.
Loved ones,
sunfall,
moonbeams,
hearts call.

Origin of Self, star-stuff, sea-foam,
breath of life, body-spirit home.

A sacred space to wonder from and intersect.
A making place to worship in, and to connect.

Four broad windows illuminating soul,
in a little glass pagoda built on a knoll.


(c) 3.22.00

HEART OF LONGING

There's a play of light
in fall and spring...
Truly a most
magnificent thing...

Suddenly stillness falls
in midst of sound,
and longing calls
to a heart unbound.
And God present
moments arise,
touching spirit awake
to realize,
an awareness of humanity resting
in God heart,
a part...
of God
and me.

(c) 11.10.2000

BESIDE THE PATH

How many shades,
the joy of green?

How many textures,
to be felt and seen?

How many shapes,
singing gladsome refrain?

How many shades,
the joy of green?


(c) 5.1.92

THE PATH

Path so inviting,
calling to follow,
bask in its sun
cool in its shade,
breath in its scents,
of dust, sun and green,
drown in its sound
of bird song and breeze.


(c) 5.1.92