through august

gentle rain, hardly more than mist

but it may be enough to give hope

that the far-flung

 rhodies will make it through august

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momentary brilliance

although i hear no thunder, lightning rips

through night’s darkness everyseveral minutes

not as a slash, but lighting the sky

in momentary brilliance too fleeting to convey

to our measured minds the secrets of our world

some more than others

bluster, bluff, bloat, blame, brag, boast

misdirection, misinformation, mistrust

vindictive, volatile, vicious

part of us all

some more than others

i cannot fight them

i cannot fight them

there are too many

and they are angry

always aware

quick to explore my coming

aggressive in defining danger

to themselves, to their colony

we poor humans

believe we rule the world

but there are gazillion more

insects

some armed with stingers

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fledgling flight

fledgling atop nearby utility pole

having succeeded in first flight

from the osprey nest

with those sprawling wings

he could barely raise at the elbows

now muscular enough to lift them

and they in turn have lifted him

i did not see that thrilling flight

(how i wish i could have)

but know now it was made

i can only wish him well

as he must soon establish

his own life in a world

made awkward if not dangerous

by interfering (wo)man

vehement

 tall, tall pines

side by side

their tops gesticulating

bending, twisting

arguing with the wind

Read & Ring

Bells of the Cascades Read & Ring

dashing through much handbell music

to get the tone and flavor

in case we would like our bell choir

to learn to play it under the direction

of Matthew Compton was fun

even to this bumbling slow reader

playing the handbells has become

a learning to be an integral part

of a whole, in this case,

a note or two in a beautiful instrument

Bells of the Cascades’ READ & RING

wildfire evacuation

car packed to take oldest

to camp when notifie

of level 3 evacuation

“We need to go – now!”

the two smaller boys climbed in

and they drove off, coming

west to us without preparation

without clothes, without albums

or vital papers or anything

they would not have wanted

to leave behind

if climate change is a hoax

it is well devised to create

wilder, more uncontrollable

scenes of devastation

if it is, instead, the result of human

stupidity, arrogance and greed

perhaps we can use wisdom

humbleness and far-sightedness

to bring our world back toward balance

it still kicks me in the gut

it still kicks me in the gut

24/7 caregiver, cook, linens maid

consoler, i answered their call

they wanted to bring a treat

for dad’s lunch but never thought

to bring even an extra cookie

for dad’s wife of twenty years

Dante’s Angels

Dante’s Angels by Diana K. Lubarsky

i re-read Lubarsky’s Dante’s Angels

and laughed aloud again and again

and chuckle-sobbed at places

i hadn’t picked up on the first time

i could write a script for these

marvelous old ladies, but what

i really want is to see is them

interacting and grumbling over

each other in a small playhouse

maybe with re-arrangement

of the scenes, i can bring their pain

the joys, their solace and their courage

to more of us looking our own finality

in its whiskered chin, if not its eye

wobble

how i wish climate change

were a hoax we could all

put aside and wait until earth

rights herself again

for all our assumption of power

we seem willfully unaware

of the toxic nature of many

of our ‘changes for the better’

even natural mutations are mostly

for the worse—and die out

momentary

tall osprey fledglings now

two slender necks and shoulders

show above the rim of the bulky nest

stoic, stalwart male on the bar above

keeping watch, waiting

that momentous time is soon

when one or both young

will spread enormous wings

to swoop or fall as parents,

helpless to aid, look on

i can only wonder if in hope.

longing

 remembered moments

of longing to be held close

but he backed away

joy of sharing

talk and laughter among friends

who came to share potluck

and the sound of the ocean

wing spread

fledgling osprey chick

rises to a stand in nest

high atop utility pole

shudders, then lifts out

impossibly long wings

far to the sides of its slender body

raises them to shoulder level

only slightly bent at each elbow

wanting something but barely

contemplating the thrill or demand

of flight

renewal of waves

renewal of the waves

one after another, after another

stretching up, cresting, breaking

in air-pale foam, pounding, spreading

reaching on shore

receding and gathering again

carrying elements of one world

to another, again and again

speaking an ageless language

of perseverance and near-imperceptible

change over time

drained

drained from loss

after loss

from effort needed

to put up a front

always knowing

incredible blessings

but needing to hide

now

just for a while

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for Patty

 memorial

memories

drawing feelings, tears

laughter, whimsy, sorrow, dread

laughter again, this time subdued

in the realization she is gone

tumbling chaos

 black puppies loose

in the dark of night

gentle reaches

gentle spirits murmur

but i charge on, busy

with who knows what

fighting, for i am a fighter

and i will not give in willingly

gentle breezes touch me

and I lean against a rock

and slow my breathing, unsure

of what truly matters

until i give in to the one

who has whispered,

‘Be still and know that I am God’