Sunday, September 26, 2010
A bite in mornings freshness,
a crisp edge in days adjourn.
Leaf and grass spin bright with gold,
a harvest moon arcs, round and fat.
I feel the seasons changing too.
The tick tock of day eager
for the cool, dark of night.
I feel, the sweet hint of slumber,
life turning inward, preparing for rest.
I hear, the swish-swoosh of leaves dropping,
spent toward earth,
The chitter-chat of squirrel
hoarding against hungry night.
I smell, the robust scent of time reclaiming verdant youth
with auburn arms and harvest breath.
I see, man,
spinning in discordant rhythm,
beset by cell phone, ipod, blackberry, tivo,
plagued by artificial light, alarm clock, calendar,
I wonder at all our busy, self important knowing,
contrasted against the soft ebb-flow of life.
I wonder, as the lilac leaves curl against the chill
and the last of the pumpkins turn orange on the vine.
I wonder as the wind swirls and dances,
carrying the salty smell of spice and sea and belonging.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
Monday, September 20, 2010
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Perhaps, there can be no greater narcissism than this...
Looking deeply into the water of self, past reflection
and the busy mirror of thought, judgement, concept
...there is wonder.
The busy, thinking tide of me, flows again and again.
I crash on shore, on stones, on surface.
And then something remembers to ask.
Where am I? Who am I really?
A silence rises.
For a moment I am and the dance is within me.
Then the tide resumes and the me is busy once more.