How simple a thing it is to be at home
again where one’s heart is
to occupy one’s own bed, the covers skimming
one’s bones as they are known to do
the familiar clock and lamp at the elbow
the special mug for tea now full now empty
to see the neighbor’s green house outside the window
to feel upon one’s thigh the known weight of a beloved dog
whose two baby teeth lie downstairs in a small blue bowl
where they could be found, admired, touched
whenever one wanted.
How simple how simply grand.
When I am away do you pine?
As I do?
Do you see another–about my size and shape
whose coloring resembles mine–and sigh?
As I do?
Do you catch a familiar scent on a puff
of air and find me in your brain?
As I do you?
Do you search with your eye for some small
crumb of me in each who passes by?
As I do?
Do you, dogs of mine?
As I do?
In the middle of the ocean of sky sat
that unflappable moon full as a peach.
I dreamed it was surrounded by great
elliptical rings like the rings of Saturn.
Everyone even the nightingale even
the crying babies hushed as whole
towns fell silent watching.
Fireflies left off their flashing.
Stars quietly turned off their lights.
Clouds flung themselves away.
As if on cue a drift of wisdom
settled upon the heads of All
like soft felt hats.
On a night picnic
the languid quarter moon
canoes over our heads.
We eat slices of cool black sky
the luscious pieces slipping
from fingers to mouths
a sprinkle of sharp stars crunching
between the stony pearls of our teeth.
From the basket you pull a box of
cherries saying they are just the thing.
We lie on our backs shooting cherry pits
at the moon missing by a hair every time
and wish for nothing.
If we (I) could so truly love what we (I) have
just now just this very now we (I) might
be bowled right over like pins in a lane
knocked giggling breathlessly every which way
thrown right off our plain old grumpy balance
by a big round ball of happiness.
A racket of crows punctuated by the long cries
of a hawk filled the sky from early morning until past noon.
The hawk had caught a crow and each time it ventured out
of its nest was assailed by the whole angry lot of them.
Such a noise such a wild chase, all simply for survival.
Oh sure we want that too–not just to see another day
but to see our grandchildren grow, our gardens bloom,
our dreams come true, our hearts opened by love.
We want to watch the moon rise, see a thousand sunsets,
visit the Grand Canyon, be witness to our lives, maybe
find a cure for cancer, unlock the secret to world peace.
And in our way we are just as noisy about it
as a gaggle of angry crows.
Oh today’s the day the day all right
bringing along with it I can’t know what
and that’s the beauty isn’t it
the beauty of a morning of a day
a chunk of twenty four hours
poised and ready inviting All
to go and do with or without hats
whatever it is All think of going and doing.
Anyone knows this anyway but there it is
nevertheless said.
Elephants bumble through the jungle
of my sleepy brain elephants and polka dots
my two small nieces one a baby wrapped
up in stars her sister’s head a pouf of curl, eyes agaze.
When my boys were little
I liked to drift into the fancy lands
of books as I read to them
three warm bodies pressed
close as ever close
four blue and two brown eyes
intent on the colorful pictures
their own fierce imaginings
carrying them wherever they went
as the words marched forth.
If I could whistle up a charm
for us I’d make my mouth
into a small perfect oh
and then fingers crossed
toes firmly planted
eyes closed (for conjuring)
put my whole soul and heart
behind one long breath blown
evenly through that oh
and then you and I
would stand hushed
as the pretty little
goodnesses sprinkled down
all over us like pink sugar
on two happy cupcakes.
Friday the thirteenth
came and went
brought no particular
good or bad luck with
its coming and going
no ill will in the woods
or elsewhere
just rain rain rain
just two wet dogs
the bringing out of
a striped sweater
a rawhide bone
the scattered stuffed toys
lying soaked in the muddy yard
as if fallen in battle.