Blue Poppy

In perfect Beauty,
As if giving birth from the womb in
The Creator’s amniotic choice of heavenly-blue,
An effusion of stardust is caught
Beginning its eternal journey
To the undefined reaches of
Somewhere, shot from the muzzle
Of a blue poppy and giving an
Alter-story to the Creation
Saga in Genesis, and also portraying the
Big Bang as more gentle than the
Sterile hardness of mathematics,
But more like the softness found in the
Underbelly of nature, as seen
In the silent authority of a flower
Speaking without fear.

Genesis

…And so, despite being
Sternly warned, Lot’s wife was
Turned into a pillar of salt
When she inexplicably looked back
At the very instant of
Sodom and Gomorrah’s
Annihilating destruction.
She was vaporized instantaneously
By a blinding flash beyond
All description, which ravaged
The land making it unrecognizable…
I have wondered if this infamous
Biblical story with all its
Wild imagery could somehow be
Applied to understanding
The importance of
Living in the present
Moment and not looking
Back at what we once
Had or knew in the past…
Because there is no surer way
For a heart to be hardened
And for lifeblood to be
Clotted and curdled
Than to excessively obsess
A real or perceived loss
Or unfortunate turn
Of events and to endure the
Ensuing fallout from the
Unbearable mourning
Or anger. We are intended to
Keep moving along our
Life’s path, just as Lot’s wife
Was admonished to do,
But she turned around — and
Thus she who was born of flesh of
The womb was transformed
Into immutable stone.
We likewise become lifeless
When we fixate upon
Something from our past,
Because, like it or not,
Our path is meant to be
Traveled, and stopping and
Looking back is an anathema
To Creation’s way of
Rounding, smoothing, and
Teaching us. In short, we cannot
Learn if we are frozen in
Time, and our eyes have become
Clothed in scales as if we
Stand motionless like a
Monument in Death Valley…

Morrill

Ode to Morrill

You watch, waiting in
Silence, as if expecting I might
Have something to say, while I, in turn,
Watch you, thinking your
Branches to be both changed
And unchanged, your faces the same
Tho’ not the same…

Woods

Gray came up’n me,
Cold whipped the trunks of my soul,
Wind beat about me, and the
Woods whispered that “old” had crept
Into my snowy bones.

Moment

Still no movement, silence
Has even stopped…branches which are
Bent remain bent…branches
Which are straight guide my gaze
To their tops…

But then something flies
Chirping, and I would describe it if I
Could, but its feathers are
Too far away, and so I resume my
Autumn mood…

O, Angel of God

“O, Angel of God, my guardian dear…,”
And thus I begin my catechism’s
Childhood prayer, and then
In the silence, a distinct silence
Cold and white, a chorus rises up,
And chickadees alight…

Calling Out

“Where are you, Memory,
Where can I find you in the midst
Of this snowy field lying in
My mind and up’n this ground…?
Everything looks the same,
But my mind tells me
Something has changed…!”

Requiem

I returned to these woods to
Re-walk and live my old memories, and
Found some of them moved and
Wondered to where they
Might be keeping…?
And so I mused aloud,
“Is there not anything here
I can depend?!”
And then all my old
Haunts and shadows looked
O’er at me, and I knew
I had crossed the
Threshold to an e’er
Approaching requiem.

Musings

Knowing

If only I knew that I would
Never know, that I was merely
Destined to sit a beach
Like this, and to always
Wonder the meaning of a back
And forth, tidal flow…

If only I knew that I would
Never know, would I still persist and
Sit this beach, and in tremble
And awe be satisfied
With what had been gifted
So exquisitely…?

Seasons

…The eternal, intriguing
Nature of your smile, felt
Particularly in autumn, and
Fleeting, but always long
Enough to me beguile…it haunts
Me still, ne’er too far away —
What once I felt I knew,
But now the meaning I
Cannot explain…

Feelings

Puget Sound cold are my hands,
And cool across my brow brushes
A wind which also cloisters
And huddles shoulder-to-shoulder
The grains of sand, but
Blessedly and thankfully,
Faintly still warms the sun, and
About me circles the lingering
Season of someone.

Whispers

Path’s End

Could I have finally
Found what so long for I
Have sought, my first glimpse of
Heaven’s gate where the
Water purrs like a mirror
‘Neath the care of a loving,
Soft cloth…? And radiant
To me, presented as
Peace almost blinding
Yet abiding, beaming through
Gilded clouds, as if God’s
Face was unfurled in a
Predestined bottle
Shining…

Awe

My footprints stop at
Water’s edge, having finally in awe
Come upon a view of
Waiting heav’n…and then,
Realizing the Beauty
Was far, far more than
Mortal verse could
Express…I became
Speechless, content to be
A witness to the Mysterious
And unexpected…

Whose

And whose other
Footprints are these, has
Someone else stood
This shore and
Heaven’s gate also seen, a
Portal open through
Which a pilgrim can walk,
And into the Kingdom
Of Light be welcomed as a son
Or daughter of God?

Plea

Cleanse me, O Lord, of
That which I should
Not imbibe, and leave within
Me only the salt from
This flat, calm sea,
A metaphor I believe
For when I first became
Alive…and realized in
Your presence that
Terror was defeated…

If Only

If only I could wash
My face clean…all that would be
Left would be the salt of
The Divine…and I could taste
It with my tongue and
Up’n my soul let it lie…

Before the Throne

Comes to me the
Chirp of some bird, the buzz of
Some simple bee, and
Then silence, extended
Silence, silence like it
Was before was heard the first
Sound, and then before
Me shrugged the
Essence of All Majesty
And spoke, “What is
Your doubt, why is lament
So often your song?”