Flying With

This date and this progression of time have got me remembering a poem posted 8 years ago. I will repost it now, with the compassionate comment of my dear friend Willie and my reply. I would welcome comments now too. This sort of poem, a kind of elegy, invites remembrance in all of us of those who brought us into this incredibly beautiful world.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Flying With

[with thoughts of L. J. E., b.Jl. 29, 1910, d.Nov.7, 1960]


Wind ends nowhere,
Erodes sand, yardang,
Clay, shakes roof,
Web, hair and lifts
The matted woof of
Forest floor away.
Cyclic, like night
And day, causes
Clouds to spread,
Spins storms to
Shred on hills, crags,
Drags seed onto new
Meadows and, under
Spill and spell, leaves
A distillate
Of rainbows --ends nowhere,
Begins in mystery.
Between, it
Tests eternity.

2 comments:

1. 
   WillieNovember 7, 2010 at 9:07 PM

   While this poem's dedication refers to folks I don't think I ever knew, your details get me down to the level where I'm pulled into knowing them as much as I know anything else from dust to dust, flesh to flesh. Inchoate but expressible by words well bespoke, mystery and eternity lie here indeed!

   
   
2. 
   Geo.November 7, 2010 at 9:30 PM

   You know I seldom dedicate poems, am uncomfortable with elegy, but this is the 50th anniversary of my dad's death. You know how these mysteries go. We're always knotting sheets together and escaping out the orphanage window.

Bird and Straw

Wattle-laden loader roars
Across the west field
Toward a tiny bushtit
Perched on our farmwire
Fence --curiosity and
Courage come in all sizes.

Darwinian Soliloquy

I am layered under
Leaves, between things,
And each leaf
Brings a possibility
Of me --I survive.
I feel. I am real
And I am alive.

Spider-Sprinkler Seance

A spider web 
Catches spray in
The last of 
Summer heat.
At the root of
Existence, mind
And matter meet.
You are here.
I'm here too.
Hello, I love you.
 

In Our Hands

Hop, palm up, plop.
Little guy at the base
Of my thumb must
Feel that, since 
I come by and he is
There, we're friends
By birth on this
Earth and partnered
In its repair.

The Callalily Question

Have we the courage 
To be vulnerable?
It hurts, you know.
Perhaps that is when
The best blossoms show--
Or when something deep
Inside decides to grow
Higher and, as weather 
Warms, forms a new leaf,
A new stem and grows.
One learns, one knows,
In throes of uncertainty.
One goes on --we are 
All on the hero's journey.

Brick Lizard

Lizard: 
I am a mighty 
Earthling. I think
Unthinkable things.

I: 
I don't understand.
What sort of thought
Eludes itself, and
Leaves itself uncaught?

Lizard:
Here --you are high
Above me as I dart
And crawl-- do you
Fly? Art thou a
bird, or just tall?


 

Asteriated Droplets

Rain beaded on
A lilac leaf, an
Astragal of spheres
Strung along outer
Space, arranged in
Years to hold drops
Of time, minute stars,
To bend the leaf --
To keep this universe
Of ours inflating 
In shade, after rain
And not evaporating.

A Photon is a photon

For this, I go back nearly a decade (11/15/2008)

and add a Normaphoto, Blue Midnight:

 

Antiparticle Of A Photon Is A Photon

First there is wilderness
With a voice in it
Sent all ways at once,
Echoing at random on
A becoming collocation--
In minds surprised
By a healing tune or
Curtain opened on an
Indoor moon.
This black flower sends
Petals into night,
But silent?
I don't know, things said
Sometimes leave me
But silences, never.
After all, where
Would they go?


*****************************************************
(Horiculturists, please look up Scilla Peruviana . I heard the name "Blue Midnight" and, despite my ethnicity, prefer it to "Portuguese Squill".) Because of interest in the flower, I'm adding a photo of the same blossom a few days later:

Open Geometry

Galaxies spin and
Bloom in cinders,
Dust, astragals of
Time, space and us. 

Recombinant Cooperage

Yesterday or tomorrow
We work in undone barrels--
Believing in wine-future, 
Wine-done and, at this juncture
Reuse bilge hoops set, reset,
Into spheres and domes-- serving
Garden hearts and homes.

Valentine Evening

Just thought it apposite to close this lovely and loving day with 2 Normaphotos:

I, with an espresso gift from Daughter...

... and to all, an arrangement from Norma's work in our garden. 
To those readers who expected a poem on this post, I can only quote that lovely man, G.K. Chesterton, who wrote,"Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese." I can only say it is now 7 p.m. and my brother-in-law just left after giving me a waxed round of  Camembert --Marin French Cheese-- and I am thinking of trying it. Wish me luck!
 
 

2xCyclic 5-7-5 Haiku

Not even what will
Be before what happens last
Can undo the past. 

But nothing is still.
Ampliative induction
Goes 'round --always will.

New Year Moon!

We share a moon, a moon!
Look into the night sky, 
Marvel, be astonished,
Go to bed, dream but don't
Forget --don't forget we
Are, when morning comes,
As one, one species, we are.
The moon reflects a star:
We share a star, a star!