Light makes its own course
along the walls and through the windows,
drapes itself in shadow,
caresses surfaces
Reflections, bright and subtle,
dance back along its path,
celebrating presence.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 18, 2018
The work being done
there on the outside
is nothing for us to meddle with,
a business of wind blowing in all directions
and snow, various kinds,
coating trees, filling window screens,
piling high on roofs and railings,
driven up again, in powder form,
from the ground
We haven’t been out all day,
contenting ourselves with
food and naps and laundry,
thoughts and hopes,
wistful as snow,
blowing around inside.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 13, 2018
I’m having a hard time
finding a poem today,
here, amid the calm and steady
working on a couple projects
and the alarming tug
of social media
Hours have rolled by,
the minutes marked
by the drumbeat of appliances,
me in my pajamas all day,
thinking of drifting toward bed.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 24, 2018
A pale pink dawn
through soul-colored catkins,
the quiet songs of things
along my daily rounds,
clinks and clicks and shuffles,
heater noises, water sounds,
the rhythm of calm, the routine
of each thing in its place —
these serve to hold the ground
against the heave.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 23, 2018
Evening met us with
a momentary visitation —
some among us have expressed impatience —
too late in the season for cold,
bring on the daffodils
Others have reminded them
February has the right
to dish up anything —
snow and crocuses,
plum blossoms and deep freeze
But what difference does it make
what any of us wants —
nobody asks us anyway!
©Wendy Mulhern
February 21, 2018
The road to Brownsville
snakes along the river —
though you can seldom see it
you can tell by the trees —
alder, and some maple
and a few firs,
broken branches thick with moss —
that the river is there
The road stands high and proud,
serious slopes off both shoulders
so big trucks can trundle through
in any weather,
timber explaining the need
for such a big road
to such a small place.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 15, 2018
The little fire
takes a while
to make us warm
Outside, today,
the cold north wind celebrated
the bright sun, whipping and chafing us
as we ignored hunger, and tiredness,
racing to keep ahead
of the rumbling rock work
So we discover
there is a sustenance beyond
the formulas for comfort,
there is joy out on the edges,
there’s a rich reward,
a great expansion that we find
as we’re delivered
from the easy life.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 13, 2018
We’re only a layer away
from the bright cause that animates us all,
only a layer, only a letting go
of what we now reflexively react to
Only the choice not to be caught up
in any of these urgent
cause and effect loops,
only the choice
to begin at the beginning,
right here, right now,
caused by nothing else
but what we are.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 9, 2018
February begins to grant
the gift of longer days,
a swing of warmth along the arc
where the sun promenades
But be aware, it still is known as winter
and can dip there, sending down ice
from brilliant frigid stars,
freezing the pipes,
keeping us on guard.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 7, 2018
I place myself within the demographic
which insists there is no such thing —
there are many of us here,
defying all kinds of norms,
blind, no doubt,
to all our glaring similarities
I imagine there are others
who yearn to fit precisely in some group,
who find comfort in belonging
even in a spectrum
Ah, how I squandered moments
back at the cafe´, observing others,
placing them in boxes
where they certainly don’t fit.
Now, at sun’s last light, the geese
take up their chorus across the field,
surely more attuned
than I have been.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 6, 2018