They’re forecasting rain,
lots of it. Today rested lightly
on the prospect,
its blue sky innocent, its sun soft,
no hint of change till late afternoon
which still was light and balmy
But there are plenty of hours
before tomorrow, and the rain
may slam in around midnight.
It may be dark and wet
for a long time,our planned-on work
thus rendered impossible
In which case we will turn inward,
literally and metaphorically.
We’ll still find something to do.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 12, 2016
In small steps
we move toward cozy,
nestling batts between the studs,
walls filling in wooly
We dream of rugs and tapestries,
a wood stove,
some comfy chairs, some source of light,
friends in for tea on rainy evenings,
a little loft where we can spend the night
We dream, we work,
and it appears
as well is must
for we are makers —
more powerful than we have known.
We work, we trust,we make it happen,
we hold the vision and it comes to us.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 6, 2016
My mind settles down.
The things I had been thinking through,
though interesting, have ceased to chatter.
I find I have no need to draw conclusions
From where I am, I watch, I choose —
I tell myself when ways of feeling
may not be the best use of my being.
I don’t need to feel sad
and I don’t need to feel worried
It’s much better to hear the hum of evening
and the calm continuance
of all the breathing,
and to know that I, too,
fulfill what’s needed,
in thought and presence,
in time and place.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 3, 2016
I got lost for a minute there —
I could feel myself pacing back and forth
though my body was seated.
I was shaking at the bars of my day,
I needed to move, to scream —
well, I didn’t know what I needed
Turned out I was easily calmed
by cool outdoor air, and you
standing beside me. Turned out
what I needed was you by my side
through the narrow tunnel
of evening’s mundane tasks,
through the design challenge
I was working on.
It didn’t take much —
the subtle weight of
not abandoned, not alone —
to reestablish equilibrium.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 18, 2016
The rain is welcome
and the damp breeze is welcome
and the coziness inside the house
is welcome
Time to let the rivulets of life
seep, welcome, into the soil,
time to reinforce the roots
with life connections
Time for design, time for welcoming friends,
time for mending sweaters, making food,
time for preparing
for our next venture to the land,
time for gratitude.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 17, 2016
What part of my life
would I dwell in
if confined to the world of my memories?
(The old man loops on Providence,
his sisters and the people and streets
he used to know)
Would I choose to hang out in my childhood,
the summer games of hide and seek,
the chlorine-lung feeling from long days
in the swimming pool? Or the scattered
gems of joy throughout the stringent years of school?
Probably not in adolescence, despite the sparks
of spiritual enlightenment, and the strong feelings
too deep under the surface for me to fathom
And young adulthood, though it had its triumphs,
contained too many gaffes for me to want to re-inhabit,
though the growth, a little later,
was quite compelling
There was great joy in having children
and the fierce love that came with it,
but there was also anguish and constricting fears
Considering my rising tide of happiness,
I think I’d rather stay here
in these last five years.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 12, 2016
Having stepped
sometime in the night
or so it seems,
into the land of happy
I have nothing to complain about —
not heat nor cold, not missteps,
not setbacks —
the bubbly truth
about the nature of everything
cancels concerns
I notice I no longer
feel myself riding in my body —
instead, I inhabit it,
all the way out to my fingers and toes.
I touch the earth and sky
just in my everyday walking,
at home in this day.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 29, 2016
First there is the light
and then there’s the
trying to remember
For awhile the whole blaze
can be invoked in memory
and there are various
tricks to try to do so
Then there’s the gleam,
a light that’s still real
but indirect, and there’s
the gazing at it, trying to think
if that’s the thing
we saw before,
if that’s the light that dazzled us
And it doesn’t seem quite the same
along the shining stones
but the essence is right.
We start to ask,
did we ever see it
as something more?
We try to re-engage
but ultimately
it will take a new dose of sun,
liquid reflected,
to kindle that first brightness once again.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 26, 2016
Well if the only thing required
is to not give up, I think
I should be able
to manage that
The exposure
of all my years of
not really pulling my weight
will not by itself sink me
just as long as I don’t
keep on doing nothing
It scares me, the level of my helplessness.
But maybe I can do something.
Maybe there is a use
for my mind, for my perspective
Maybe if I just
don’t give up today,
things will start getting clearer
and eventually
what I’m here for
will be apparent to me
and also others.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 19, 2016
The morning’s gray whisper,
the limpid rays of reflected light
straying across the quiet water,
soft folds against the shore
The puncture of dog bark,
the rip of plane engines,
the glide of gulls and ducks,
scrishing footsteps of walkers,
rising of ripples, a chance of rain.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 10, 2016