In this moment of afternoon
I walk in quiet wonder
through a subtle quality – the day
softened by tears,
softened by sweet conversation
that went on last night long after dark,
softened by the relief of finding a next step
out of a tight place
There are fewer words in my head,
and that is softer,
and the sun and breeze are softening each other,
and we can have direction
without being driven,
and we can have this day,
uninfluenced by time.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 29, 2021
I sit quiet, waiting
for something to say –
all I hear are the now-subdued sounds
that continue into evening –
the high bleat of the towhees,
blackbirds with their jewel-toned songs
A while ago, I saw a turkey hen
walking home, sampling evening bugs
among the ferns. Now I hear one fly
from tree to tree
The wind has quieted, the sun has gone,
coolness starts to reassert itself.
Some cars, or maybe motorcycles,
are rumbling up a distant street,
but that’s part of another world.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 16, 2021
The sun will be laughing at us,
as it goes down, for all the things
we missed doing today,
although we were working straight along,
sun-roasted, wind-cooled, not stopping
to rest or eat
The sun will be laughing
but we will be laughing too,
for we did well, planting trees, not stopping
till we wanted to sink into sleep,
and we came into town
and got what we needed,
and may even get home
before the sun goes down.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 11, 2021
In threads of the prosaic,
when I’m feeling far from poem,
here are things to bring me back
to my words-bejewelled home:
You, cheerful, through the speckled paint
that makes you look like Father Time,
me, tickled, through sporadic rain,
that I can wash my hair just fine,
The breakfast that you finally
had time to eat at two,
the fire to make things cozy
that I tended just for you,
the progress on our project,
moving through its awkward phases,
and still affording grace
as I am honest with my praise.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 24, 2021
We talk of fruit trees,
we let the fire go out
(we only needed a small fire anyway)
light rain patters on the roof
We have so many plans,
more things we want to do right now
than we could do in three seasons
(a habit we might want to leave behind)
A friend told me today,
“Love’s ideas don’t need to struggle to unfold “
You climb up the ladder to bed,
I think on these things.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 23, 2021
These days it seems the best pleasures
are not the ones we plan,
but those that swoop upon us –
hot shower in the rain,
gust of cold air as I walk
back to the cabin, fire-warmed within,
small expressions of appreciation
for our work, each with our separate tasks,
mutual understanding,
the sweeping sense, at wee hours
of the night,
that all is well, that goodness reigns
and never lets us down.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 28, 2021
Coals lie along each other in the fire
like we do at night,
glowing in each other’s heat
In counterpoint, the stratus clouds
now showing faint above the fog
lie along each other in rolling cold,
pink-tinged, here and there,
but no warmer for it
My fingers sting in morning outdoor chores –
they can’t get warm, lying along each other,
and must return to where the fire
is cooking breakfast,
and warming up the room.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 5, 2021
Evening has me considering
today’s flavor of nothing to say,
rain settled in around the cabin,
a skunk, by the smell outside, underneath
The fire, having warmed our space
and cooked our meal, and made hot water
for cleaning up, is out to pasture –
a little flame retained so it will not go out
but small enough to not be overbearing
We have worked,
we have wrestled demons,
we will essay the same tomorrow,
this being the stuff of our days,
the course we are here to complete.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 3, 2021
I started to think about
what would be comfort –
end of day, sun gone down,
cold cabin waiting dark,
food to prepare
I started to picture it –
someone to care for me,
some place of light and warmth
where I could rest
The images slipped away quickly,
shifting and melting, canceling out,
till all I had left was a golden glow
and a feeling of worthiness
from having loved
So I knew that I had what I needed,
beyond and above the wood for the fire
and the place I could sit
and the noodles to eat
I knew that I had what I needed,
and that was comfort enough.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 6, 2020
These short cold days,
the sun, even when it does come out
doesn’t have much time
to melt the ice, to warm the air,
and while it can land steady
on the south slope,
it only glances down the north,
leaving long shadows behind short stubble,
unable to dry the wood
dampened by fog and frost
This time of year
we fall short of our goals,
leave the night watch
to the cold stars,
start up next day
as slow as the sun does,
move through our project the same.
©Wendy Mulhern
December 3, 2020