Blog
Search the Blog
Categories
- 4th of July
- American flag
- Arizona
- Attenborough
- Bells of the Cascades
- Boy Scouts
- Budapest
- COVID
- COVID brain
- Characters
- Danube River
- Eagle Scout
- Eskimo
- European cities
- European streets
- Family
- Germany
- Good Friday
- Great Depression
- Italy
- Mailchimp
- Matthew Compton
- Mexico
- Mt. Hood
- Nature
- Nature poem
- Nature poems
- Nature's wildfires
- Nevada
- Northern Lights
- Olympics
- Oregon
- Pacific coast
- Poems
- Portland
- Recipe
- Relationships
- Research
- Rome
- Russia
- The Avocet
- Trillium Lake
- Turkey
- Venice glass
- Viking cruise
- WW II
- Writers in the Grove
- Writing
- abandoned
- absence of light
flexible strength
haiku
flexible strength yields
the path to the agreed goal
grips the objective
siblings’ memories
our parents changed
in the eight years between
my birth and his
my sibs and i can never
write the same memoir
out of a gray-cloudy day
help and support sometimes come
from on gray-cloudy day or week
of rejection disappointment
and from unanticipated sources
from people who have touched my life
but not yet allowed me to reach to them
they give without assurance of return
and leave me, mouth open and trembling at their generosity
pale orange patch
startled to glimpse a pale orange patch
i looked up from my computer
through the venetian blinds
at the distinctive hind quarters
of an elk not twenty feet away
in my back yard
such a thick, muscular body on
dainty hooves and spindle legs
massive, long head and heavy spread
of antlers—and not alone
just then aware of the busyness
around him, i leaned to look
around the porch posts and to
the other window
six huge, powerful, wild creatures
grazing within feet of me
keeps me properly humble
my deer, my privilege
from the weeks after we moved
into our newly-built house
deer gazed into our living room
windows
they had evidently been using
our field as highway and wondered
about this contraption only partly
blocking their path and the strange
creatures inside
soon they were back, nibbling on
the sod grass we’d had laid
and now, decades later, they return
as does, singly or a gossipy group
at times with gangly offspring
grazing on weeded grass and vegetable
scraps i share
seldom a buck unless young, newly
separated from his mother
this morning dark-haunched
older ladies unabashed to taste green
blades mere feet from my window
my privilege
bit my tongue
i bit my tongue too late
there is no honor
in refusing to tell the tale
after all of me rocked forward
to slander someone with his true deeds
sky rivers buffeted
our sky rivers buffeted, dislodged
from paths we on earth have come
to expect
changes in our weather from above
and beyond bring snow yet again
in the middle of april
and yet again the knowledge
that, despite our fussing, nature
will do as nature wills
as it weaves the world we live in
mj yarns
‘mj yarns’ bag my brother found
for me to collect my little writings in
for i both write and knit
stories, scarves, poems, pendants
sayings and sweaters
he brought the bag up my hill
to leave it on the stand by my chair
without explanation
then hurried away and wouldn’t
say even when i caught him
it took me a minute after his car
left the driveway to see and chuckle
he’s never asked about it since
willing to believe
we are so willing to believe
that what we experience
is truth
yet even our experience of color
is limited by the wavelengths
we can absorb, knowing that,
in reality, there are many more
at each end of the spectrum
why then do we limit God
only to what we are
comforting coincidence
sometimes the rain deepens
my sorrow
as though the earth pain
at my loss
but more often not
mere happenstance
and then my friend
quoted Einstein: ‘coincidence
is God’s way of remaining
anonymous’
how odd age
how odd age is
relative to circumstances
and age
at nine, thirty-nine was ancient
and now, at eight decades plus,
to lose a friend at forty-six
is to relive within myself
the frustrations and joys
of those years he will have missed
and be left only the hope
that his life, for him,
was enough
friends in blue
chuckles at puns
nods at sharing life incidents
warm hugs
smiles of understanding
friends gathered to unwind
together at lunch
and solving a jigsaw puzzle
as they sit looking out
over the pacific
osprey pair
osprey pair
one among the twigs of the nest
one on the crossbar high above
unsheltered from driving rain
waiting
stoic, impatient or oblivious of time
for nature’s next step
in their bespoken calling
to bring forth the next generation
ah, child
ah, the child within us
bleeding from gentle cuts
those who ‘know what’s best’
give without recognition
of children’s deepest needs
causing pallor in our impulse
toward empathy
and ischemia in our surety of acceptance
of self and thus of others
the unloved dies a victim of neglect
and learned hatred
staggering on, we settle for criteria
of worth as wealth, power and
cosmetic beauty
even as the child within us weeps
knowing these are superficial and
unworthy of our brief lives
rich holidays
such rich holidays
for so many people
in the world
a time we could share
our peace and hope
for life’s renewal of joy
if only we will
naked muscle
thick rope of raw muscle
coiled in the sun
naked, vulnerable
mere feet from its hole
under the cement
unrecognized
without the markings
of shed skin
privileged
“Oh! I’m sorry; I did not mean
to disturb you. I just stepped out
onto my back porch to put this seed
into the bird feeder, forty – fifty – sixty
beautiful elk. As soon as feed them
I’ll go back inside.”
they watched—one a mere twenty feet
beyond me in my lower field—watched
but granted me the privilege
of stepping out and then right back in
without interrupting their feeding
then i watched them
from my dining room window
neutrality
i don’t hate you
i work hard to keep unfeeling
one way or the other
i cannot afford to care
because you use me for no purpose
you grow not
and waste my life
only so much
only so much i can do
when whoever is in charge wants more
i can only give less
and we are both dissatisfied with me
i am learning to forgive myself for that
osprey wait
osprey waited days in high nest
for her mate to arrive from far off
the pair now huddle
among the sticks
in rain so fat it splatters
drenching the wait now
for eggs that will need warming
and insistent little mouths
that will demand to be fed