waste not

my parents’ early secret marriage gouged by the Great Depression

what they’d worked years to accomplish

wiped away as promised positions

disintegrated in industrial collapse

nursing posts unavailable

to married women

everything that could be was re-used, repaired, given new life

as money simply was not

within grasp of hand

raised as i was in their hard-earned

philosophy, i eat everything on my plate

and take home scraps in a ‘doggy bag’

wasting good food was sin-like

so, much of the fried ice cream left on

the restaurant table after our celebration

was painful for me to see, but, thank

the lord, not for my family who still

believe in abundance

blessed beyond words

blessed beyond words

i draw my arms around me

as my husband can no longer

and thank the beauty and joy

that fills me to overflowing

ready to begin again to try

to capture in written rhythm

and feeling moments of life

with its coercions

and limitless promise

full moon entangled

full winter moon entangled

in yellowish, green-gray, eerie clouds

fighting with brilliance to be free

of the fear those hoverers over earth

engender in mere mortals looking up

helping heal

so young to contend

with a disease that is robbing

her of sight

and now beloved father’s fight

with cancer lost

holidays have only so much magic

that moments beside Pacific’s turbulent surf enhance

but nothing yet

can heal the wounds

off on their own

how better to tell them

they are loved

than to meet them for lunch

near the airport before they depart

hugs and laughter over a hot meal

joyous with happy memories shared

to send them off again

to their own full world

knowing all the family is behind them

white elephant laughter

grandma watches from the corner

of the couch the generations

choosing, stealing, re-choosing

white elephant gifts, laughing

as the lucky numbers first drawn

get to choose again among

the extras wrapped for guests

who did not come

being in the midst of such love and joy

is worth all the years of struggle

comfort and taxes

strange to think of Joseph worrying

about transporting his very pregnant wife

when she ought to have been pampered instead of uprooted

by an unyielding government ruling

that all the world should be taxed

just like us with petty but nagging

concerns for the well-being

of those we love that nudge

then jolt us with the truth

of our own inadequacy

to do what we ought, let alone

what we want

sadly, nothing

applauded for disregarding decency

to find a way to ‘succeed’

they begin to believe themselves

worthy of the success they have

achieved when what they have gained

is of no value

i cannot take no for an answer

how to respond rather than react

to those who will not honor

fundamental respect for life

this i’ve gotta see

his roommates know little reason

to go home for the holidays

they listen, unconvinced, to stories

of his family gathering in laughter

or huddling close in times of ache

or pain or tears, being there to help

in ways he had not yet realized

he needed them

he may well have one or two

with him next celebration time

crash-scatter what we crave

blunder through life

crashing through the underbrush

of surroundings and interactions

scattering the beings that breathe

in courage and accomplishment

all around us without our knowing

unless we can quiet our frantic pace

to listen and watch

the beauty and joy of which we

are already a part

rudeness unacknowledged

 rather than acknowledge

wrought iron bird politely

faces away as california quail

crowd the feeder tray, wiping back

with their feed as they step forward

to advance on the birdseed

creating piles of husk and debris

on the porch below and behind them

Text & Images Template (Copy) (Copy)

I feel almost empty without EXHALATION to work on each morning. But the file for the fourth novel in the NANDRIA series has been sent off to the guru who can format the interior. Without my graphic artist, Bill Helwig whom cancer claimed this past autumn, i was stumped. Ben Gorman of Not A Pipe Publishing stepped into the breech for me and even found an artist to help with the cover. My watercolor sketch has been sent to her with ideas of what i picture - we shall see. Hopefully, EXHALATION will be coming out early in 2024. What a gift, to have such talented people as supportive friends!

bells of the cascades, 12/2023

 brilliant, intricate patterns

and rhythms, quick runs

of an octave or more

rung up and down from one

four-in-hand handbell ringer

to the next and back again

too fast for audience to catch

each twist and pump of fist

that creates the music

that mesmerizes and awes

gold-orange slithers

golden orange slithers

between pine needles

creating a bold lace

sunrise finds glorious

myriad ways

to awaken us

to possibilities

to try again

wrinkled gratitude

wrinkles are part of me now

and colored spots sprinkled on dry skin

but my funnybone still thrives

and my eye for the glory of a sunrise

and my awe at the power

of generosity, so, despite the aches

and fears, life is still a precious gift

for which there are no adequate words

of gratitude

pink-gold dawn

gentle, pink-colored sunrise

this morning gradually being insinuated

by insistent pale gold tinting grass

evergreens, fields and hills beyond

as though pigmenting with glory

the very air to wrap us all

in a new beginning

the aches of the elderly

 aching pain tends to diminish

the attractiveness of an old man’s surroundings

could it be nature’s way of loosening

his clinging tie to life?

sound haiku

whisper if you hear

shout and lose touch with nature

listen, understand

waves under rain

frantic roiling beneath haranguing gray

sky agonized delivering days of rain

in only hours

waves crouching, heaping, lifting

conceiving hills, mountains, cliffs

birthing white water against ancient basalt creating spouts, spurts, jets leaping, roaring white

leaving short-lived miniature waterfalls

and rivulets between rock faces

as they retreat, exhausted, against

the next oncoming, wind-driven contraction

mjNordgren  12/6/2023  at Tidal Raves, Depot Bay, OR

Depot Bay, Oregon

seagulls smell leftover French fries