When you talk to the baby trees
before and as you plant them,
I hear your boy heart
pure and clear as blackbird song,
unmasked and frank,
strong in its innocence
I know its power in you
is like a tree core —
able to root down deep
and send shoots soaring
higher than anyone ever thought was possible,
high as hope, as love, as sky.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 20, 2019
We find the day
right back here where we left it —
it has opened out while we were gone,
the fulness of its breath lifting us
into the company of other days,
expansive and broadening,
rich with experience and memory
We are ushered, thus,
into the company of
all that lives in rhythm with the land —
trees and ravens,
grass and ladybugs,
water and all its courses
and that songbird
whose music so instantly
fills our hearts.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 14, 2019
Outside and inside,
two kinds of evening glow,
and there’s one thing —
really only one—
you need to know
As sun’s last light
paints orange above the hills
and the fire has finally
driven out the evening’s chill,
there’s one thing —
really only one needed —
to make the warmth stay,
to make it real
Heaven and earth
may be the same playground
where the children of the house can romp.
They are never uncompanioned,
never left alone,
they’re always celebrated,
always home.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 9, 2018
The bite of breeze
and the smell of earth
and the fading warmth
of the late-appearing, early setting sun,
a time to feel
rich in my domain
and glad of others’ work well done
The land is holy,
full of so much life
that flows so quickly
into any opening
I don’t know what kind of bird or animal
made the trilling, cooing sound
off in the distance
between the noises of machinery
but it sounded sweet,
it sounded like home.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 8, 2018
In this autumn time
when hours put forth
their ever-changing views
as light dances with fog and leaves
and birds we haven’t seen before
make their appearance
We can breathe wonder,
we can breathe hope,
we may notice
as often as we notice breath —
not all the time,
though it, too, is continuous.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 22, 2018
The day we live in
as we walk side by side —
is it the same day? Or is each day,
for each of us, the color mixing of
our outlook and our observation?
The land we walk on —
does it speak the same,
up through your shoes —
do you feel the message
in its ancient language,
the calming reassurance of belonging,
the fleetingness of time
and its irrelevance?
Certainly we both feel
the uplift of the crickets’ tireless chorus
and that exhilarating quality
of sun-warmed air through fir trees
The day we move through
may not be the same
but there are signs
that both of us receive.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 15, 2018
Frost greets us —
silver gift, celebrated
by morning birds —
singular recipe —
beauty, severity
Much as the early chill
made luscious the warmth of covers
and each other’s bodies,
though soon, work demanded
that we rise
The climbing sun brings warmth,
first in its radiance,
later in the winds
which started frigid
but soon were balmy
Tonight we’ll drain the pipes
against the freeze,
the crescent moon will set,
the stars will send their cold light down,
tomorrow we’ll await
the same steep curves,
seasoned by season’s turn,
well met in grace.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 14, 2018
We will be neighbors,
we will not pick and choose,
we will be glad
at those that live near,
those that drop by
We’ll still be neighbors,
though some will leave
and others will move in,
though futures we imagined
involve a different cast
The distance teaches us
to value every face,
the land’s benevolence
becomes a part of us.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 12, 2018
It doesn’t take long,
back from town,
for the land to make us feel better —
the fresh air and soft rhythm of trees
bearing us up, like these
gently swaying hammocks
I can see the space between the sounds of things,
insect buzz and wind chime,
bird chirp and the imagined rustle
of tree moss,
the tick, from time to time,
of falling needles
And it’s easier to feel
the embracing size of everything,
here where insects carry sun spark
on their wings
across the shadows
under attending trees.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 10, 2018
Cartesian calculations fall unevenly
over the land —
we walk on the bumps of frost heaves
and mole diggings, deer boundings
and many other unknown forces
It’s the same with everything we thought we knew —
we’ve learned there’s no point in arguing
about minute alignments in the realm of straight lines —
they may inform us,
but none of them contain the final truth.
We need to find the places upon the land
where they all meet,
we need to soften every view
to find what’s true.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 14, 2018