Eleanor’s Song

support a friend

in her prolong effort

contribute to her celebration

of well-earned accomplishments

and accolades

enjoy the honor of being with her

as admirers gather to hear her read

from her beautiful new novel

rejoice in creativity and appreciation

looking away

looking away

 even when i am aware

i miss looking up or out or down

or over at the right time

baseball is so boring for me

because i look away just as something

exciting happens—and there are long

spells between moments of excitement

but worse are the spectaculars

of the night sky i never see as i sleep

or try to peer through fog or rain

as the meteor showers of august

the world is part of something

so much larger that we might know

if we could view beyond ourselves

empty tray

california quail took months

to learn to lift to the elevated seed tray

but now muscle up beside one another

crowding to feed and clear hulls

backwards with their feet

emptying the tray, leaving nothing

for smaller wrens and chickadees

i wait until the quail have fed before

setting out each morning’s seed

acceptable losses

unable to fend off drones

bombs, missiles sent to destroy

an ‘enemy’ whose major offense

is swearing under his breath

or snapping at his wife when tired

from long daily labor

yet he belongs to a group deemed

hostile by policies of other men

declaring war while crowded safe

in luxury bomb shelters

who is held accountable for decisions

made in the name of others

that bring them to their deaths

as though they had say in the terror

that plunges their families

and themselves into pain.

anthropomorphizing

sun scurrying south for the winter

inches per morning

along my eastern horizon

cold season is milder here

on the Pacific coast than i remember

growing up in America’s Midwest

when at times the snowdrifts

were far taller than i was

so i question Sol’s need to bask

in the tropics

but Science exhorts that i am

anthropomorphizing

that the sun is not a ‘he’ making

choices but a physical mass following

laws of physics resulting from its limp

or wobble left over from collision

with sister planet Theia

i guess even planet siblings

do not always play nice

why halloween

why horror movies

when we have as reality

neighbor killing neighbor

children living their entire lives

in refugee camps

ruling groups with the avowed

purpose of destroying enemy

nation, party, religion, grouping

hate gives no struggle for creativity

no building against chaos, entropy

no joy or even entertainment

why do we mock reality

by playing at horror

when horror is playing for keeps

with so many lives and deaths

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lizard with deformed tail

lizard with long tail

forked and curled

into small, opposing semicircles

basking in the sun

does he worry about

his deformity?

is he accepted by other lizards?

is he a social outcast

in his world of individualists?

or is he merely warmed by the sun

and watching to catch any near-

flying insects with his agile tongue?

supercilious

‘we’ were so certain when i was small

that formula was superior to breast milk

without recognizing individual needs

of specific infants

that asphalt would make better roads

more traffic, more commerce

without realizing the runoff would pollute streams

or the dark surface would contribute to global warming

that ‘greed is good’ was local only

without imagining that the quest for

more and yet more did little good

even for the greedy one accumulating

ah, if we could approach our being

with a bit of humility, of awareness

of so much greater than ourselves

because we may be late in finally

accepting our arrogance is killing us

joy of sharing

laughing with friends always

renews my perspective

puts petty annoyances

into the background noise

where they belong

yesterday’s day at the coast

sharing delicious potluck

and word games and talk

among ourselves did that for me

how i love the joy of sharing

on reading The Life of John Donne

Izaak Walton looked at sainthood

with eyes and concepts so different

from my own

assuming ‘ownership’ of wives

and the ‘good fight’ in terms

of racking up points – not in this

world – but primarily in the next

so, for all Walton’s humor and enthusiasm, i read of his friend’s sacrifices and trials

lamenting the loss of Donne’s striking

words rather than taking joy

in marvel of his pain

arched path of stars

clear night sky

stars seen, not through mist

or haze or light pollution

but sharp, distinct

welcome as childhood friends

when the Milky Way

was near solid path

arching above me

cedar lace

 cedar lace-filtered sunbeam

delicate pattern of filigreed shadow

on my palm as i capture

master artist’s light creation

before it reaches the forest floor

            Van Duzer corridor

i am

 that you do not see me

does not make me invisible

achy angry

achy long enough begets angry

angry yields snappish

pondering after requires apology

ah, to not have had the achy

in the first place

grateful to be informed

not that long ago

there was no telecommunication

mail was days or weeks or years

between send and receive

anxious moments stretched into

months without knowing

this morning’s text message

eased my heart with news

my grandson is back in this country

having lost weight but standing

on his own two feet

i am grateful to be so informed

needle pliers

fir and pine, evergreen and ever gossips

wiggle and bend together in their stands

needles clack and whisper as they knit

tales of the adventures of their seedlings

whose cones were carried afar

by birds and friendly winds

and horror stories

of the foolishness of man

the way of all

singing in another celebration

of life tomorrow, another friend

gone ‘the way of all flesh’

another life that reminds me

of the finite quality of my own

the concept of time seems local

to me, but within my un-vast

world, i had a beginning

and will have an end

perhaps then i will understand

what ‘i’ have been

generations hug

little red-headed boy fighting tears

hobbling grandmother comforts

“Do you know what I like most?”

“Uh-uh,” he sniffles

“Freckles. Isn’t that what they

were teasing you about?”

slow smile in response

“Do you know what I like most?”

“I can’t imagine.”

“Wrinkles.”

answer before acting, please

how do I have the right to correct

to maim, to slaughter those who see not

the ‘truth‘ as I see and know it

and to lay blame at the feet

of the almighty who clearly commanded

‘Thou shalt not kill’

blue-purple

mauve bruising to thunderhead

as gold edges blue-purple clouds

sunset promise of anguish

to be faced in lone darkness

anger to be mellowed by night’s quiet

battle for peace

courage to be summoned to face

a rather-not reality and fears

i will admit to sadness and strip

delusion of control

“i” remain, depleted though i am

i will give what i can and keep

what i need to

dawn will come again with warmth

to swell the sight and smell of purple plums