may you know

through patient
persistent

practice
of presence

the power
of prayerful
pause..

TO LUCY (my granddaughter)

No one,

Not butterflies

Cavorting 

In this milkweed,

Nor these clouds

Sailing 

Across blue skies,

Not this hummingbird

Flitting

In my garden,

Nor pine trees

Swishing

With the breeze,

No one,

Has lips

As cute

As these....

faceless snowflakes,
their tiny mouths
sipping swaths
of blue sky

A sky so thick

seeps westwards.

Suddenly,

the mountain of fog

explodes into tiny

particles, white birds

scatter towards heaven

like faceless

snowflakes 

or fragments 

of last night’s 

dream. 

ACTIVITY REPORT

A day

like every
other-

drinking tap
water, kissing
birch trees, brewing
coffee, planting
milkweed, writing
love letters, sipping
swaths of blue sky....

  Beguiled Eyes

Don’t complain to me about

your famous spiritual

deficiencies

when this hummingbird

at this ancient

pepper tree assaults

your upturned

face with peripatetic

love like a teenager’s

obsessive crush.

No, I don’t want

to hear about

that gnawing in

your gut,

nor your romantic
insufficiences,

but after the bird
dissolves,

lift your eyes

from the hypnotic

cell phone screen

to gaze through these

playful breezes

into blue-swaying

skies above. They have

waited your whole life

in silence and in storms

for these hazel orbs
to soften and shimmer

through every kind
of wildness,

and yes, to finally mourn.