I have watched the sun rise today
from my own window in my own room
sitting upon my own bed with its clean sheets.
My wealth is enormous, my riches vast.
I am lucky, blessed, bouncing on the knee of God.
Tag: favorite
My Dance Card
The law of impermanence states that everything changes
the curve of the river the child the flower the state of grace.
Approaching the bluff today I, crestfallen, saw that the
fantastical dancing man, the luckily shaped branch of a fallen tree,
was gone, not just broken off but completely missing, no trace of him.
Only yesterday I’d rested happily in the thought that the woods are
ever changing, always fresh, rejuvenated every season, every day.
All well and good until the dancing man disappears without so much
as a by your leave, my dance card lying empty in the palm of my hand.
The Big Oops!
Apologies, apologies . . .
Clutter
Saucha was our lesson today, a word
referring to purity of thought and body,
yogic cleanliness, clarity, orderliness.
A quick glance at my messy studio
reveals a distinct lack of the latter.
Piles of papers fill my desk, cover the printer,
lie upon, let me just say it, practically every
flat, semi or slightly flat surface therein,
preventing the use of a fan on these hot days.
Items I might need one day rest in various spots
hither and thither where, when the time comes,
I imagine I will either recall exactly where they are
or find them easily amidst the chaos,
a naive imagining oft proven false.
One day, I tell myself, I will have all of it
organized, put away, filed, ordered, the many
surfaces dusted, the potentially useful spaces cleared,
a soothing tabula rasa in which to work. One day.
This pure thought lies mouldering in my cluttered brain.
A-scampering
And so we trip along the paths of wood and meadow
taking in everything, the call of the pileated woodpecker
sending a ruffle of ahhhhh! through my body
the light in the trees the cool touch of the morning air
the rasping of cicadas, the scampering of my two dogs
the wild devotion with which they apply themselves
to this quotidian place as if they have never ever ever been
here before, as if every leaf and stem is brand new
as if Life itself has just this moment burst open in them
and sent them rocketing down the path.
Not Exactly It
Sixty new things I said I’d do
in my sixtieth year now
a burden a chore an albatross
not the thrilling party I’d envisioned.
The fried pig’s head so unappealing
the various cocktails disappointing
the left side of the bed unsettling
my whistling ever yet sub par
the skydive still looming
and with five weeks left
forty-seven down, thirteen to go
the inner nagging does not let up.
What else what next what’s new?
I’ll try making marshmallows
dye my hair purple
learn fifty new words
and when at last this year is over
return to Life As Usual
no promise no pressure no pact
each new encounter a lovely surprise
undertaken for the sheer joy of it.
The Dance Card
At the estate sale I bought a young woman’s
dance card from a formal dance of the
Theta Chapter of Kappa Kappa Gamma
dated February first, 1915. More than a card
it is a small booklet on a string with five
pages and a brass mesh cover, the
facing pages listing Engagements
and Dances with the names of the
musical numbers printed out
Ballin’ the Jack, The High Cost of Loving,
It’s a Long Way to Tipperary,
When Grown Up Ladies Act Like Babies
and to end the evening, Good Bye, Boys.
The young men’s names are pencilled in:
Mr. C. Avery, Mr. Mann, Mr. Cook and
on line 13 the underlined note I kissed him
with his name given only as XXX.
Well well well! What might the chaperones
Mrs. Bella Kirkbride and Miss Fannie Sanders
have thought of that? And why did
this young lady keep her beau’s name a secret?
And whatever became of him? Of her?
Of Mr. Mann, Mr. Cook Mr. C. Avery
and all the others she’d written down?
They are all certainly long gone now never
imagining that a perfect stranger would
one day wonder about their lives and loves
about who and what they became
whether they lived happily ever after
somehow escaped the ravages of war
or more likely died young and bewildered
in a foreign country a lifetime away
from formal dances no chaperone
to keep them out of harm’s way.
Watchdog
My littlest dog keeps himself extremely busy
with many tasks and duties, first and foremost
guarding this house against intruders, i.e.
screaming at any person or dog passing down the street.
Catching squirrels which includes stationing himself at
the base of the redbud tree for as long as he must
until they finally escape away in the treetops.
Carrying his many disemboweled stuffed animals
in and out in and out of the house all day long.
Yelling from the car at any dog or person
choosing to walk on any sidewalk or street.
Chasing off the raccoon and the white cat
that lurk outside the fence at night.
Preventing my neighbor’s dog from ever
leaving her home or entering her own yard.
Ingratiating himself to All who actually enter
our home despite his best efforts to keep them out.
Getting everyone to love him more than
Miles the hedonist (not working on Mother).
A Beginning
You go away now
over the hills and up the bluffs
find out the things you need to know
listen to the old songs adrift in the trees
let the clouds and grasses tell you their stories
follow the moon uncover its ways
learn all you can out there and then
come back to me refreshed whole hale
and we will begin.
Cake
Her brain was addled
from too much cake
(so they said)
though anyone knows
that cake will go
straight to your toes
(instead of up top)
and make you jig
dance til you drop.
She licked the crumbs
right off the floor
held up her plate
and asked for more.
Now she lives atop a tree
pining for you, waiting for me
waiting for anyone (truth be told)
who will bring her a cake
(she has a heart of gold).