Splendor

sunny meadow

A day this splendid
deserves a big idea,
one you can pick up
by grasping anything
and following along the chain of life
until you have the whole of it

The dance, for example,
of leaves in the breeze —
its connection to sun-impelled currents
(heat rising, cool air swooping in)
and to the limbs, supple with water,
bending to wind and light,
and the thought shimmer
that comes from watching

Or the certain conviction
that everything, everything,
is the thought of one Mind,
moved by the same desire,
born to love every tendril,
every flicker, of life, of light,
born to bring its gifts
in gratitude and brilliance
to the day.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 15, 2016

Rising

cirrus at Weaver Lane

Your soul each morning
walks out open,
arms spread, ready as a kite
to catch the updraft of being,
to soar and scud, to dive and dance
along the upward currents,
to rise and rise,
even as your gifts flow
out and around,
to let the impulse multiply
and come back through again,
ever cycling, ever linked
by mutual nourishment
to other cycles,
other life forms rising and releasing,
all of us emerging as a whole.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 21, 2016

Joy Wins

lower pasture, july

Joy wins —
It is the starting point,
the quality of every impetus

Not something hoped for,
waited for, a distant endpoint,
not something to emerge
(perhaps) after travail and sorrow

(Though it does emerge there,
being unsuppressable, waiting,
always, for the point when,
drama spent, we pause from flailing)

Joy wins.
It is the trumpeting
of everything we are,
not tied to loss or gain
but simply here —
the life force pulsing us
through every day.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 20, 2016

Habit

Magnuson shore

You don’t need to swallow
the bitter drink of disappointment
even though it’s a habit

You don’t need to close your eyes and nod
while the gall spreads down your throat
and pools of it settle behind your eyes,
and your teeth grind together
in the misery of another brick in your wall
of small

You can set that cup down,
you can bow your head,
you can wait to be filled
the way water fills footprints
in shiny sand

You can insist
on drawing no conclusions
until joy rises up
to smooth your brow.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 15, 2016

Waves

Richmond Beach waves

I watched the waves come in steady —
for each three breaking, three more would appear.
At every moment, some were ending,
some were forming,
some would break and some just disappeared

I thought of life, of opportunities
as if each were a wave, as if I had to choose,
as if some waves would bring me
the fulfillment that I hoped for,
while other choices might well disappoint

and then I watched the light across the water,
the brightness of the blues, the constancy
of all the pattern, and I knew
what comes into my life is not beholden
on luck or on the choices that I make

Just as all this sea
is given to my eyes, and all this beach,
so all my days are given me, and all their joy —
There are no misses, no crestfallen choices.
The one who gives me life
has promised goodness, too,
and gives it constantly
throughout my days.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 9, 2016

Seasoned

grass and firs

Days come, in their variety,
Everything living jumps into the rounds —
birth and renewal, harvest and rest

We find ourselves seasoned by seasons,
patina’d, weathered,
rising and falling with readiness
for the arc at hand,
new growth superimposed
on the memory of last year’s cycles,
becoming timeless with the ancient breathing
of what returns again, ever new.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 7, 2016

A Day’s Gifts

little plum tree

These gifts are as prolific
as the plums on our little tree,
which last year bore
five delicious fruits,
and this year has so many
(though still green)
that I am in awe of the generosity
of one so small

These gifts — conversations that yielded
bright streams of satisfaction
at their spontaneity,
and the ease of connection
and the fact that I didn’t even try —
they came on their own, sweet signs
of Life’s generosity.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 10, 2016

Life Turns

meadow,fence

And if we are surprised at life —
if what we’re dealt, if what we’re dealing with
is so removed from what we planned, imagined,
If we are flummoxed or bemused,
or wrung out till it seems no more can follow,
life still takes us by our puzzled hand,
leading us to drop our expectations

On the other side, life waits to emerge
in our consciousness
like green leaves after winter,
soft as new growth on firs,
miraculous as horse chestnuts
with their springing buds,
profound as the secret
of trees seeding clouds for rain,
bringing blessings more transformative than tears,
reestablishing our faith.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 2, 2016

Behold the fowls of the air

front pasture grasses

Let me fly
in the rich provision for my being,
let me take no thought
for what will hold me,
what will glide me
along the subtle billows of the day,
what will deliver me
glowing and fulfilled
into the calm of evening

Let me take no thought
but let me know it fully,
let my gratitude warble
in a voice much larger than my form
across the land.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 16, 2016

An Answer of Peace

tulips and artichokes

Let me not presume
to have the self-importance
to get it wrong. To tell myself
“if only you see better,
and rightly understand,
then all will flourish —
if your life is blighted,
you need to work harder”

Let me not imagine,
in the face of the fullness
of everything,
that I have the power
to get it wrong.

It’s not in me —
Life will provide me
an answer of peace.

©Wendy Mulhern
April 24, 2016