Taft bay

haiku

photons catch motion

flit brilliance over unseen

ripples in the bay

fog dispersal

haiku

whispers strewn by fog

over mist-swallowed friendships

diffuse understanding

decisions by the elderly

how to know when heart

and head are tangled within

grief guilt and longing

dream twelve years later

dream of waiting for my husband

to drive home in his huge log truck

so real, the worry, the longing

to hold him safe

but when he came a great niece

and her husband came so he needed

to tend to them and our moment

put aside, but he saw my smile

senior living

come to die here

in comfort and elegance

as much as possible given

reality

struck as i walked north

toward large window

at the end of the corridor

with reflected parallel

rows of light leading upward

toward the blue purple

hills

as though toward

heaven

break in the indigo-purple

break in the indigo-purple

layers of hinting-dawn clouds

steely gray horizon blushing

with the promise of another day

with appreciation

snow-capped peaks on my skyline

after many days of layered gray

clouds obscuring – blessed sunshine

much appreciated

communication

so many days waking up in a cloud

fog of gray with no horizon

no neighborhood, nothing but

myself, grateful for ways to reach

out by text or by phone

to those i love

such contact has not been common

in human history so i am glad

i am living now

you live what you believe

may you live with love and truth

late december

haiku

again socked in gray

clouds hiding the snow-capped peaks

but bright and joyous

cope with boxes

mired in my own lack of organization

box after box of books, but no way

yet to get more bookcases here

i simply could not picture how

to arrange the furniture or how much

furniture the apartment would take

slow and easy, slow and easy

i don’t need to be settled in just yet

Christmas celebration with family

is what matters now and they can cope

with boxes as long as we are together

we will miss them

our congregation so small

yet welcoming and giving

even glad for our pastor going

on to his next calling although

we will miss him and his family

greatly as they have blessed us

in ways we weren’t immediately

aware of

fuzzied 3rd Hood

my third morning here in the Gardens

but, in rain and heavy skies,

my first sunrise and it has the glory

of a celebratory chapter in my waning life

brilliant folds of white and gold among

the purple, and, above, intense indigo

with Mt. Hood jagged beside the tallest

pine tree, except its north face fuzzied

by clouds severed as they drifted south

water droplet communities disunited

by granite

Christmas ships

Christmas ships

rainy, with some fog

but i can see nearly across

the valley floor

packing and unpacking

what i’ve lived with for decades

will be damp work

but deciding to leave most

to be sorted out and given away

was much the best decision

since getting to see the Christmas

ships with Alisa last night at Nancy and Dave’s was such a joy!

stumbling hopefully

stumbling inside a mist of hurting

and a fog of fatigue where every

little task keeps me too busy

to remember i am upheaving

much of what matters to my life

still, the hope that i can, with help,

cling to some dignity, is what is

driving this change

there will be beautifully happy moments

no matter what and no matter where

there always have been

organizing shiftiness

trying to keep up with everything

i had signed  up to do, but i’m so tired already

from organizing, packing

and losing track of needed items

such as my favorite credit card

but this time next week i’ll be able

to settle down and begin to put

things where they will stay

-        at least for a while

Julie of the Wolves

 Julie of the Wolves

By Jean Craighead George

a beautiful love story trapped

between wildness and barricaded-

from-Nature civilization

an Eskimo girl raised in the old ways

is lost in vast tundra featureless

and the same

as she looks in all directions

starving, she studies the interactions

between the wolves in a small pact

mimicking their ways of intimate communication

until she is accepted

as one of them

but hunters are human, and kill

for sport

her very humanness brings peril

to this family of beings that

have saved her

frosted incline

frost again promising

slippery incline of our hill

so many times impassable

in winter, or willing

to accept those drivers game

to slide downhill side door first

rocks in the water

rocks in the water

barriers, obstacles to navigation

of man’s commerce

yet creator of tiny resting places

for fish migrating upstream

and small hurdles to be leapt

aerating the stream, delivering

oxygen for gilled creatures

contributing to life rather

than merchandizing

what they can afford

a gentleness not seen in

those who feel they are large

too large to need to take turn

but able simply to bully

to get what they want

where those who are big

inside as well as out

can afford empathy