Scripts breed uncertainty –
so many times to encounter divergence
of what is described
and what I’m observing
And scripts can themselves be uncertain,
sketched in impressions
from half-heard pronouncements,
guessed implications
from things I can’t ask about,
lest I admit I don’t know
And so I’m approaching unscripted,
open to see what the moment requires,
hoping my trust and respect are accepted,
praying my moves be inspired.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 29, 2023
… was stepping through long grass and clover,
failing to keep my socks dry,
till the rapid curve of the hill,
where I tossed each biscuit
on its short and tumbling arc
while late sun graced daisies and seed heads
in moments when cloud veils lifted,
and the house on its perch on the hill
exuded welcome.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 17, 2022
In this world of shifting shadows
things may be predicted
but nothing is promised. You can be gone
just like that
and what was the point
of everything you strove for?
Which doesn’t change my practice
of putting each foot down, doesn’t change
my proof-gathering sense
that what is done in love
will have results,
and love will always make sure
to take the steps needed
so the results come.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 23, 2022
The smooth hardness of the maple wood,
its solidness as I split it,
the songs I played while wielding
the axe and hammer
The little towhee
who flew into the window,
who I set upright and warmed
for a moment with my hand
before it flew off
Enough laughter to fill a face
so full that tears ran out,
time to listen and tell stories,
time to feel at home.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 18, 2022
Jewelry, small containers,
knick-knackeroo –
we’re getting down to the small stuff
and we’re so far from through
I wonder, will we ever
open this box again?
Will we ever want to use these things,
and if so, when?
These tracks, the leavings
of the course of our lives –
perhaps that’s all they are
and we could leave them behind
like footsteps in the sand
to simply disappear –
Why should it matter what becomes of them,
why give them all this care?
And yet I keep on packing up the boxes
And I think: if I don’t free myself
then something else will –
this is something that I know for sure is true,
but this picture of my daughter in the frame she made –
that’s coming with us,
and this other stuff will, too.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 18, 2022
I said, we’re where we can imagine
living a normal life …
But what is normal, anyway,
and who decides that,
and who measures it?
Who advertises it,
who uses it to sell stuff,
and how does it relate
to what we’re building here?
The whole point being
to be forging
a different way of looking
at everything –
purpose, comfort, how we do things –
the whole point being
the incremental learning
of how to live an honest life.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 12, 2021
Cancel my subscription,
update my address,
please be assured
that Seattle and Portland
are not cities of the antichrist
Please know we didn’t
willfully tell our friends
to send things to us
at your postbox
In that thin and flat satisfaction
of filing things
I put the pleasure
of issuing these notices
free from indignation –
in clarity and peace.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 10, 2021
Some days, things we count on fail –
the camp stove rusts out, the showerhead
gets blocked, the jar that holds the knives
breaks at the bottom
And though we thought we had no time
for tending things, we have to stop –
clean up glass, replace
the knife container, showerhead, and stove,
and in the pause to fix things,
life gets better
Some days I’m just happy –
the summer rhythm folds me in,
and time and progress
get a different measure.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 5, 2021
Thank you for standing in the rain
with a lantern,
trying all the known tricks
to make the hot water work for me
after your cold shower
and even after all efforts had failed
and I was starting with my cold shower
in the cool rain
The hot water that suddenly came
was so lovely, so welcome,
and the chance to get fully clean
after this muggy day
so appreciated!
As are you, in your rain jacket and boots,
having put things right,
climbing with your lantern to the well house
to turn the power off.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 12, 2021
I’ve got my town pants on,
which renders me a little helpless,
in the can’t get dirty kind of way
To tackle tasks around here
it seems essential not to care
about a little soot here, a little mud there
And dust – this time of year, and, too,
this phase of project – one or another
kind of dust will get all over everything
As to the matter of grass seed
and how it sticks in socks – even boots,
it seems, can’t keep it wholly out
But town pants have their own troubles,
being prone to spills of chocolate,
and pizza, it seems. Whatever.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 10, 2021