November 12-23d 2010

Upon flight in my migration to other temperate zones i witness a memory.
We go you see, we clump onto trees in large masses making branches turn into drooping orange arms.

but upon this gliding fluttering air swept journey i recall a time when i had been immersed in the grit, volcanic woody, sooty, moistened, endless brown of the earth.
I was once so plain, singular, lonely even.
with many means to take only small and squirming steps forward. none the less these steps i did indeed take and i took them with as much dignity as i could.

the chrysalis that became
seemed my inevitable construct
as a final adieu to my old friends and foes.
to my old habits, my old likes
one gauzy overlay after another.
i thought " i must be dying"
feelings and thoughts grew less and less frequent.
all the world took a pale shade of ghost through the eyes i no longer have
all there was, was fading
in the cocoon.


as with most grand occasions it began with a feast
by devouring the very life flesh of all that had sustained me, i mustered the strength to fly.
In my flight i could reconnect with the beauty of my secret name.
The shy, quiet breeze was kind.
The faceless mother finally set me free.

From above reborn were the shapes of things, the taste of food and the company of others.
Enlivened like a bolt of lightening cracked in an open field
what a gift
i thought,
a fleeting,
silent,
seemingly effortless
grace.

November 26th 2010 : A time for every sort of change

The hands clapped together
The wine glasses ding
I searched for someone familiar
I found some new and some old.

Read it in the cards
heard it on the radio
Porchlights stayed on for the darkness
Broken alarm clock sounded in the slumbering.

A memory burst stronger
than the moment itself was
bringing a mixture of longing and letting
stirring both sorrow and peace.

November 6th 2010: Let It Rain

A change of heart can sometimes occur without warning.
A flutter in the chest signals to the mind.
A crack in samara opens, the moment ripens and then with courage, we step.
The tears held back begin to flow
and honesty begins to shine as kindness.
Such a relief is possible when one has a change of heart.
The gray clouds give way and rain down heavily as a sign.
We are not alone.
Wisdom beings invisible to the naked eye and deep in consciousness surround us waiting for the right moment to say, "Yes, that was the right thing to do."

November 4th 2010 : The Musical Dunes of Baker California

In quiet pause one can hear the musical dunes of Baker California
which encircle the rotting gas stations and piles of rusting automotives.
The hum of transient pools in Death valley and the wind chiming songs of wild flowers which scatter the highway.
The echoing piano concerto that levels itself lower and lower down the Grand Canyon and the banshee trill in Douglas fir treetops.
The swoonful love ballads of African violets.
The white noise of dying autumn leaves.
The sound of her long red hair is like the bowing of a cello.
His smile is like sudden raindrops tapping a tin shed.

November 2nd 2010:Madonna

Green ivy grows across the Madonnas face.