A way to find safe harbor
is to be one – this I feel today,
having extended welcome,
and still basking in the comfort
of that simple act
More than words and gestures, I think,
the heart behind it –
that offering served to open the way
for me, too, to sail in
to where the breezes and ripples
are kind.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 8, 2022
The fog walks lofty
across the distant trees
in the early morning
The sun glows bright
across the grass
just before it sets
The sense within me
that calls it beauty
meets these scenes with joy.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 7, 2022
Consider the state
of not needing to say anything,
just hearing the sounds of the day
collected now in memory – conversation
and the whir of various instruments.
Memory, too, of how the sun warmed the air,
and brought out the scent of earth
And there were true things to communicate
but no sense of need
to be seen or understood,
and now there is the imprint
of having spoken,
but no further purpose for the words.
After all, it’s not my role
to make a story of the day –
I fall in, like creek into river,
tributary to Spirit alone.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 6, 2022
The sun and the company invited us
to fly down the day
like it was a long grass hill,
our arms out wide,
embracing the air as it rushed by,
trusting our feet to navigate,
trusting the curve of the hill
to bring us out safe
Birds in the oak tree celebrated
collective being,
singing, flying, returning.
We celebrated too,
Life having its way of calling us
just like that.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 5, 2022
Everyone sings of longer days –
the wheeling geese, perambulating turkeys,
two kinds of blackbirds in the pasture oak.
After dark, the frogs sing in the northern pond.
The ease we feel – it seems we all are led
to reach out and share it,
to make sure everyone enjoys
the coming light.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 3, 2022
I feel us coming conscious
of a simple fact, the truth of which
unpins a whole metropolis,
all its intricate relations and
exacting machinations
imploding
into
irrelevance
I feel the mirth of it,
the little ripple that becomes a laugh,
the rolling freedom rising up,
the waves of burdens
falling off, falling off
and now gone
Much larger than a birthright,
this right of being settles in,
this not needing to earn or prove
anything, this priceless value
of each of us
is everything we ever need.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 2, 2022
This is not quite an attraction
to those that are broken,
not quite attachment
to being broken,
liquid viscous, puddling out
This focus on the dark thick quick
and the way light shines bright
on the slick of black
is not the crux of the thing.
The pull is to go through,
the bubble closing back behind me,
space stretching huge, opening ever out
The desire is to bring back
the essence of sky
and the way to find it lofting out inside,
lifting up the prospects
from where they had been caged,
shining them out,
as sky is always vast,
releasing them into their freedom.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 31, 2022
It’s evening, and the things I’d love to do
line up behind the chores,
which briskly assert
their right to go first,
and some of the other things sigh,
thinking they’ll fade away again
for who knows how long
Still I am grateful,
for the chores, too, and how
I’m well set up to do them,
and maybe one of the other things
will get the happy surprise
of being tended to –
mending, or reading, or writing –
I’ll sit here by the fire and see what comes
to fill my hands and mind.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 30, 2022
Joy is our carbon,
what we pull from air,
what we use to grow our essence,
what we use to make home
and sanctuary,
shelter and support
for all that we hold dear
We pull joy from the air
and give off that which blesses
other life, and, too, ourselves
Everything we’ve ever made
we’ve made from joy –
it is our gift, our legacy, our contribution.
Joy’s traces will forever show
where we have lived.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 28, 2022
And when I look up from my pages
the evidence is everywhere –
The psalm of geese
calling and curving
through the foggy frosty morning
The murmur of the fire –
its warming flames
an acclamation of release,
the gratitude to be delivered
into a lighter phase of being
A road into the brightening day,
fog lifting to reveal the opening –
steps enough to know the way
to place my feet – feet flexing
in anticipation, journey awaiting.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 27, 2022