Poetry

Flow

“Flow like water through the alders”
The guide stood ten feet higher on the trail
Heavy shrubs obscured our way up
Perched gingerly on the rocky path
Impenetrable viney thick green behind
She waved her arms hula dancer style
“Flow like water” she repeated and turned
Stooping as she disappeared into the brush
Following tight I flowed low and high
Streaming up the steep mountain slope
Traversing the dark dense thicket
Lush alpine tundra awaiting our delivery
Flowing like water through the alders

Dream Fog

Immersed in kaleidoscopic granite truth
Just over there floats the intricate story
As widening eyes accelerate sad departure
Leaving full sensation and leaking particulars
Beyond reach as cloudy ghosts dance
Lush details race through a hedgerow maze
Fading veiled memory sprinkles foggy crumbs
Weighty yearning loss
Waking’s cost

July 16

The 25 year old me would never believe I’d become an early riser
Thirty years or so later I’m enchanted by the hours
The younger was convinced were meant for sleep
Or tortured wakefulness
Today’s cool and still summer coffee morning renews
Not yet the hour when lawn mowers invade
A buoying cacophony of birdsong inhabits my ears
A watering can as best friend
One step ahead of drowning summer heat
My meditation in nurturing
A missed day becomes an impatiens’ doom
Now, at summer’s midpoint, locusts insist on intruding
Crashing over syncopated trills, twitters, warbles
Still, distinct screeches overflow my morning world
A myriad of arias blend to a blaring cicada crescendo