Canvas at the Cove

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Muralists at China Bridge had nothing on us and our out-stallation on a blue-washed .   Bank See!? No protest here. We made  a great day of play.  Hiking the back road to the Spillway.  Clamboring boulders and scree. Breathing Wind and waves. Solitude.  Sun. Photography.   Miles of beach.  One sailboat, one kayak, a few campers. Romping, talking,  Rock chipping, rock skipping.  Sand drawing, Claiming driftwood treasure, leaves, gull feathers, and marveling a two-inch baby lizard.  Yay for today!

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Facing the music

The song works.  My Angel shared it with me.  If she knew I was posting this she would say, “Now say three nice things about your school day.” Okay.  1.  Two hundred donated sketchbooks.  2. Community people outside of my Community who genuinely care about kids and teachers.  3.  Kids.  Oh, and…Filing some piles of newly planned Curriculum.  I am a piler.  What can I say?

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Waking to Summer

The Mermaid Swims... Strait Way to New

sleeping in

You left your paintbrush

on the hillside vibrant orange

paint running

for not-so-subltly finding

what might be sooner wished forgotten

Love

I could not speak the heart words….No

more kindly trying to distance

to own a different view

a compass shaky kneed and needled new

an eisel pointing eastward, skyward blue

into tomorrow

until

Morning

breaks soft, hard boiled eggs

to giving not to taking

to waking warm in beautiful embracing

the broken runny sunnyside

to serve my eyes in indoor outdoor

breakfast in bed….

break slow and savory

the glide of new washed sheets

the maple syrup  slab of bacon is this…..

my immoveable

Yet fog hangs hashbrown low to stratus clouds

depression

just not the usual coffee drive from Starbucks

but one I’d give and take most gratefully

in navigating this vessel toward the sun

with you

I commandeer some days

more cautiously in better seeing

Inside my pearl

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Lost and Found

Wide awake and not by choice

Lost and Found

will soon  find voice

Tomorrow morning

In dialing KPCW

barking high pitched peppermint

Girradelli

and dogs gone missing

to  July 4th

In spite of State and County firework bans

America will have had her way

Going one way and then another

fightened dogs at large

Rammed fences

dispersed by yappy rapid fire

Come canines chased by Black Cats

Escape like bottlerockets

I rub my eyes of crusty double cherry

piecrust

Red glare and hedonistic nationalism

No chance they’re blasting avalanches?

No.  It’s 90 degrees, baby

I’m wringing bed sheets with

discursive mind and bleeding empathy

for me and Fido.

The howling will certainly keep us up all night

There’s no refrain

the sullen moan drones on

like dial tone twisted in tangled phone cord

It’s the neighbor’s hound dog,

Loose and chasing shadows

Bombs bursting like Roman candles

and tomatoes

an extra excited Bruiser dog

at the farm

tention testing a steel towchain

The hound is in the haybarn

Then back to our place

My puppy’s in the backyard’s going wild

The hound is back and forth

like an inkjet printer

Under the coveted  cover of night games

No use for such abuse under my bedroom window

He must be caught and taken home

Just don’t know the neighbor’s name

Or number to complain

My Kelpie’s going nuts

He needs a class in mindfulness for canines

Or chewy sweet mesquite treats to get attention

I’d settle for him coming to his name

I’d love  a cup of calm and chamomile

The structured bed routine is ruined

For puppy’s fused mindset

He’s running circles in his head

and in his doggy bed

And cutting claws and teeth

on all the round abouts he’s making

of the kennel

Cutting calves and herding sheep

he might have dreamt about

any other night

I sigh and long to REM in soft coo bed sheets

But through the steel wool screen

I hear the shape of things devolving

a  pink shag pillow strewn in putrid pieces

with just cut clippings

a dirty dew sets in

What will I tell my  college daughter?

I took the pillow from her empty bedroom

she never seemed to like or use it.

I think…I’m Sorry, but

In half an hour none of this will matter

I drive and find the house

Lit up like fireworks

A guy comes out and I inquire

Appologies

The neighbor follows close behind

in his old truck

The garage door rolls a sleepy smile

and in the time it takes to set the brake

and get out

The hound has reappeared and jumped into

the truck bedn and they’re gone

to after glow and tail lights

giving proof to the night

of things lost and found

 

 

 

 

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Pausing in Nature on a Mothers Day

(Photo found on Google Images.  Swaner Nature Preserve, Summit County, Utah)

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Thank you

for sky

for cloud

for current bush

for buzzing bee

for hiving systems recipe for happy

yellow energy

 

Thank you

for sun

for trees

for redwing black bird’s

call for keeping

me at bay

in perimeters of color

 

Thank you

for boardwalks slow walk

living waters

nipping toe-dip footbridge

for pussy willows gesture

for stalwart cattails

fluffy grassy pillows

for bedding mule deer

 

May all the two-legs and large ears

Hear well these prayers

for you and you and you

and may we ably pay to keep these spaces

open, safe, and more than simply on display

but cherished

wrapping all our children in wisdom and beauty

 

for grazing sand hill cranes

for fox and timid cottontails

and keep away the strange and wild

 

motorists

 

who come in tarry clouds of never ending

climbs and S- curves

slave ways East to West, a hundred yards abreast,

a million miles in all directions

 

ghastly assailants raging on

racing

and trying to pass even their own reflections on the window panes

 

Ha! Ha!

But I am quite content

to pause here in the stillness

for fixing and holding gaze across the great unknown

somehow I know I’ve chosen wisely

in gracing sane and sacred space

a world away and closer to divinity

Praise God!

for wise and fertile Earth

and all Her loving

Mothers

 

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Present Company Included, Maybe… No, Mayflies

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It’s raining everlasting

mayflies on the windshield

on my skin and in my eyes

 

flies May

 

no disguising

the swarm of napalm grey poupon

clockworks Springing

 

I raise my hands to a rite of passage

a prayer to God

I am, they are, thy will, thank you

a million minute whispers

soft and silent,  falling kisses

on a child’s sticky milkweed fingers

 

they linger in kinetic stillness

 

remain or step aside?

wonder wanders on to what, when, why

the what:  I’ve yet to find in walking on

the when:  I’m told will blush to pink in timing

the why:  lies deeper in the now

and…..

 

I think Eckhart Tolle should know

the meaning rests on wings of mayflies

here,

and here,

and here, and now

 

I envy what the mayflies are and have or haven’t got

hovering weightless in a reckless loose-looped knot

side winding wind

Poof!

no thought for thoughts

unbound by words

a swarm of ever-present metaphors

then gone

punctuated yellow

on the windshield

 

 

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Divining Rod

1200-61208368-divining-rod-dowsing

 

The well went dry on Earth Day

What more can I say?

which might be better served and saved

in swilling swell a wishing well into existence

oh, savory sweet imagination bring living water

to doubtful divining rods

 

and yet I know, the light of the Lord is my strength

I will not thirst.

 

He fills my cup to overflowing, like Grandma did

a cherished vessel, tireless in giving

much like a special tin cup meant just for me

perched on the top shelf, worn and waiting

high on the shelf of best-loved memories

The kind of love that filled a well to never failing

in the early years

 

 

 

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