Ode To Joy

March 29, 2009 a work in progress, like everything else

Joy held me in her arms
soothing the tantrum,
smelled like roses,
got things done
with purpose and skill,
set the rhythm set the beat
with quick-quick moving feet,
loved the bird
hallowed the lilac
welcomed each season
and as winter set in
faded
and changed
and finally waved good-bye forever.

In the absence of joy
gray despair.
but, spring comes
(as it does)
and the globe willows smile
lilacs bloom
a little joy
grows, smiles, burbles
holds my finger
smells like heaven
loves the new day
hallows the surprise of everything
creates music, melodies lingering in her wake
honors her name.

(untitled)

Swan,
they say.
A compliment?
I will remember the
ugly years
Carry it with me like a
birthmark
But glide with grace
and they will never
know.
I smile serenely,
Not a feather out of place.

Was I Having a Bad Day or What?

May 11, 2004

Each salty drop of sorrow
Is an ocean of unvoiced
regret and
pain and
loneliness and
even hopelessness

Hidden in a pretty cove
of a tropical island
of gleaming white smiles
and sparkling blue skies
and false sandy beaches
The hot hot sun
throws cancerous beauty
The cool cool water,
refreshing,
is an ocean and each salty drop
... sorrow.

Arches, 2004

Somehow, the still, deep
part of my soul rises to
the surface here, and
sets me free for a
time, and the breeze brings with it peace
and ... what is it? Hope,
I think ... rising, rising
Hope rising

bare feet on the
sandstone connecting
me to brother lizard

everywhere I look, I'm a part
A part.
Hope rises.

Susannah, by herself, Arches, April 6, 2004

head bent in
concentration
at this moment the center of the universe
graceful curve of the neck,
back, elbow, knee
mirror of the grandeur
around her
The beauty in the not
knowing un selfconsciousness
What does she see-feel-think?
White butterfly circles, at
first glance not purposeful
Closer inspection, the butterfly
flirts, dips, seeks attention.
the moment ends.

Hawk

(Summer 2002)

Once inside a time
running through sage-brushy sand
loping long-legged
melting, almost,
I heard a hawk.
He circled twice
then dove
and plucked my heart away.
I, not worried, ran on.
I knew he'd bring it back
someday.
Wiping sweat I stepped
into the next tomorrow
and silently strided
down a grassy hill.
Needing something and feeling nothing
I continued still
looking up now and then for the call
of the hawk.
aching for the thing
that was taken
I bounded toward yesterday
but finding the ice cap
deserted and dread
I finally stopped
and laid my head
on the cool, cold, freezing
smooth, shining
surface
of today.
Shivering
I wait.