Month: December 2011

I judge myself harshly
for judging others harshly
and round and round it goes
how it stops I cannot know.

Deep in the woods a swing hangs from 
a large tree fallen across a deep cut of creek.
This is here for all to use.  Please be safe.  Be respectful,
written across the board that is its seat.
A mysterious elf’s gone to a lot of trouble
to delight others, walked crawled or capered
to the center of that old tree
risking life at least limb 
from falling onto a jumble 
of big mossy rocks below
to do it, to do this for All.
Oh goodhearted Puck, I praise you!
Wonderful hero of mirth, 
I pile blessings upon your head!
My own concocts nothing marvelous 
to keep the karmic balance
but I vow to do so somehow 
someplace sometime.
This challenge is too
marvelous to pass up.

The luxury of time
the plenitude of moments 
plump, ripe, complete
I blindly believe left to me
even this one this very now
swiftly flowing past and followed 
directly by another holds 
the possibility, no
the probability 
each and every 
as I tend to imagine 
of brilliance 
not to mention
magic. 

My son and I wandering in the woods
in the cold winter morning observing
the world anticipating the appearance
of an owl a hawk a heron saw
instead a pretty little bluebird above
our shoulders almost as if on them
and zippity doo dah we could have sung
had we thought of it which we didn’t
but even so my oh my it was a wonderful day
and everything was is and has ever since been
satisfactual and I have no reason
to expect that to change anytime soon.

Cole and Oliver two sons of three
two June babies now men
here with me for Christmas
and I breathe deeply of the contentment 
that is my grown sons relaxed, easy
merry with me and each other during these
few days that we have together each year.

Winter sun burns brilliant
lights every crack of my world
melts the frost on my windowpanes 
this morning of the Eve of Christmas.
My two sons and two dogs sleep
only I to make a sound 
scratching pen across paper
while the old furnace hums
no bird calls
nor car rushes 
no dog barks.
For all I know the world
could have stopped.

Perfume of frasier fir wanders through our house.
Lit with lights and hung with a riot of ornaments 
that tree catalogs our lives.
The crazy scribbled paper box
the clay cookie cutter circles
the flour paste painted blob
my sons made as boys.
Clay stars and gingerbread men
from my own first tree
felt birds I stitched as a child
assorted music themed ornaments
given me by piano students
the treetop angel disheveled and 
stained (but still lovely) sewn by the 
long gone mother of a friend.
All these I‘d never forego 
for something more stylish
for they tell a hundred stories of 
Christmases past and those who
were present.

Winter’s come and some
celebrate the lengthening of days
but I like the depth of winter
the shortened days
the long dark nights
the feeling of being in for the night
pajama’d and curled into
various smooth shapes 
together with my dogs
sleeping dreaming 
growing stronger 
longer 
deeper roots
like a tulip or a rose.