Sunday, February 4, 2018

now this, old age
where white grasses crackle
in a frosty wind

At Shevlin Park


the Deschutes River
makes a turn across his own Burren
one he’s been carving out for centuries
slowly, with ice cracking tiny chunks of rock
slowly, chiseling with water flow
little pockets echoing duck quacks,
animal tracks, then water plants
and me, like a leaf here and gone
downriver
 to the vast Colombia
downriver

to the wide-open sea

Wednesday, January 31, 2018

Moon Psalms

the night is not empty
it is full of white deer
floating moon psalms
sent to comfort me
and to praise love
the love I sent them
passing through the garden
the love I’ve had and still
keep close
and momentous tides
pulled by the blue-white moon
so close, so gentle now

Saturday, August 5, 2017

heat searing the earth -
spitting perfume at the sun 
one pink lily

Saturday, July 15, 2017

Running with Rilke

 from Love Letters to God
You run like a herd of luminous deer, and I am dark, I am forest.” Rilke
……………………………………………………………………………
1.
I believe in Soul
the great ocean of it
married to life
shining out
everywhere
A soft April rain
          whispers
          remember
          remember
          remember me
LC
……………………………………………………………………………………………
2.
Two tiny shards of a broken dish
fit into one
Minoan flower
that ancient artist speaks
through the dust to my soul
LC
……………………………………………………………………………………
3.
Silence is a gift of unheard music
a baby joy without words.
Who can net the connectedness of everything?
…its strange mortal-eternal dance?
LC
………………………………………………………………………………………..
4.
in Baltimore, a soggy August day
hot sidewalks hissing a mist
lights just beginning to come on
a dancer
jives, turns, writhes and leaps
higher, then lower, then higher
all the way to the bouncing stars

if she comes back
she’ll never be the same
LC
………………………………………………………………………………………….
5.
Evensong in my cathedral
where the saints are all those I loved
enshrined in their own music
a woman-god service
teaching surrender, fearful
or fearless, just letting go
into who knows what
a servant
going in peace

LC

Friday, June 30, 2017

The Curtained Moon

The curtained moon throws
golden patches across a dense dark
as a lonely dog opens his heart
and howls his baritone line
under the coyote pack’s
falsetto cries that rise and fall
into yips and baby barks.
Night weaves it all together.
with the choral ode of frogs
and the far, far away whinny
of someone’s horse and farther
off into the vastness of so much more 
that we can’t hear.

Thursday, June 15, 2017

Could It?


Mid-June, really chilly
windy, harsh
grey clouds-
could it, would it dare
snow
on the Summer Solstice?

The birds and I
a few passing deer
and that pregnant squirrel 
we all hope not.

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