The seasons and the days
framed between branches,
half moon passing over
a cycle of daffodils and day lilies,
last year’s leaves waiting
to be raked, or blown away.
28 Saturday Apr 2018
Posted Uncategorized
in
The seasons and the days
framed between branches,
half moon passing over
a cycle of daffodils and day lilies,
last year’s leaves waiting
to be raked, or blown away.
17 Tuesday Apr 2018
Posted Uncategorized
inI crossed
That field, weeks before the first pass of the blade,
Through grass and briars, fog–the night itself
to my thighs, my skirt pulled up that high.
(Claudia Emerson, excerpt from Aftermath)
Today, I stood in the south pasture and looked back at the house,
as if it was another life I was seeing from the outside:
the gables, the stone facade, the windows, the aspen.
The palomino came to me there, and seemed of two worlds.
She crossed over the basalt outcroppings,
her hooves crushing the baby grass and buttercups,
like a bold spirit that moved between life and death
and made me wonder, for a moment, which I inhabited,
or what was real, the house, the horse, the wind, my body–
the words I searched for, to say how much I miss you.
14 Saturday Apr 2018
Posted Uncategorized
inTags
Chaos, Death, Feeling Alive, Horse Poems, Horse poetry, Horses, Life, Loping, Poem, Poems, Poetry
To straddle that fundamental duality is to be balanced: to have one foot firmly planted in order and security, and the other in chaos…” Jordan Peterson, 12 Rules For Life
At first,
They may try to buck,
But give them the reins
And sit deep in the saddle.
Like everything in life,
No guarantees,
We’re all on the bottom peg,
Really,
When it comes to living,
Or dying,
Or even breaking a leg.
Loping a green horse
Isn’t much different
Than falling in love,
Or growing old.
We like to feel alive,
Sometimes,
We like to fly
On the back of a horse
Learning to run,
With chaos on her back.
08 Sunday Apr 2018
Posted Uncategorized
inTags
Courage, Eastern Washington, Fishtrap Lake, I-90, Moses Lake, Nobility, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Raven, Ravens, Seattle, Spokane, Strength, Washington
Imagine this: an arid countryside
In early spring, wild grasses
Still brown and dormant
From the autumn before,
Cumulus clouds, dark, heavy,
Make it seem like night,
Though your watch says otherwise.
There’s a lake reflecting the clouds,
Known for its rainbow trout,
Which attracts fishermen and birds,
And a BNSF train breaking westward
Toward Moses Lake and Seattle.
Imagine a raven soaring
Over the train, and with it:
The train, with its many orange cars,
The raven, ripping, racing, winning,
And reducing everything to backdrops
and props, objects bowed
By a single, scrappy black bird.
05 Thursday Apr 2018
Posted Uncategorized
inTags
Death, Fear, Freedom, Happiness, Heaven, Horses, Poem, Poems, Poetry, Togetherness, Tom Dorrance, Unity
“Try to figure out some way to understand this thing the horse is so full of, and that he has such a strong desire to get from the person in return. It has to be togetherness. Mind, Body and Spirit is what we’re talking about here.” Tom Dorrance, True Unity
Our shared emotion,
Seventeen of twenty-seven:
Happiness, worry, fear.
What is it, rising up
Like spirit, from your eyes,
Like heaven. An open field,
Where all that matters is love
And connection, knowing
We are safe from what chases,
Knowing we are strong,
mistakes forgotten, and free.
02 Monday Apr 2018
Posted Mozart, Uncategorized
in01 Sunday Apr 2018
Posted Uncategorized
inSpring arrives like forgiveness,
A plump bluebird bouncing
Along the railing of our deck,
The cry of killdeer nesting
Among buttercups and grass widow.
The earth is full of robins
And toad sound, dormant lawns
Starting to green and grow,
And something like wonder
Taking root in this wide-open world.