Pre-dawn

In the still, early morning,
when high fog masks
what the day might become,
in the span before colors
start to emerge from shadowed forms,
the internal song
and the heart of movement
rise up in the pre-dawn light

I must not direct this motion
lest I stifle it,
lest I frighten it away with expectations  –
I can only present myself, willing,
bare feet to the floor,
and feel what happens

And the song starts up,
or maybe the movement first –
they incite each other,
and that consciousness I know of as my body
rides in the perfect harmony,
expressing, not inventing,
exploring, not directing,
making the dance its own,
knowing as it is known.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 8, 2023

Unveiling

Morning rises
through layers of unveiling  –
dark lifts, fog forms,
softening the moon

Fog melts,  and dainty clouds appear
in slowly clarifying blue,
sun tops the evergreens, and slides
slowly southward,
tiny dewdrops sparkle
on tufts of tender turf

Auspicious opportunities
parade before the hours –
we will ride some of them,
others will wait

We are in this day, in which
presence is progress,
and process has nothing to do with it.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 16, 2023

Being New

The early morning and I
meditate on being new
(after I stumbled here,
protesting for more sleep),
it having arrived with much more grace,
fog first, then high fluffy clouds,
tinged with pink

Right here, it shows me,
is the perfect place to start,
every thought fully able
to express the light, the dew,
none of them needing to rehash
some old argument, or even
a recent one. Every thought
can take this in, can bring forth
something completely new.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 28, 2022

Good Morning

Birds were singing and some trucks rolling
as we awoke and
untangled our limbs from our dreams,
and twined, one more time, together,
as the morning light started
to come in the window,
and we entertained the notion
of one or two more minutes
of lazy languor, though we knew
we would get up soon

We would bring with us
into the day
the sweet equanimity,
the readiness to bless,
the easy comfort
of having no one to judge
and everyone to appreciate,
much to do, but also
enough space, enough time.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 16, 2021

This Morning

I looked out the window
and thought of how the names
of colors (or lack of names)
affect the way we see,
and prayer and fasting
and what it means to believe

I tended the fire
and drank my tea
and considered what it means
to lose all faith in death,
and what life is
if it’s not temporal

Outside the ravens
were droll and musical,
the cat was eager for my lap,
and if I’m able to cast out demons,
I’m also willing. I take that with me
into my day.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 21, 2019

A need met

I looked for a way
to fill myself with stillness
like how the water birds
this early morning
bathed themselves in calm,
and I, watching them,
could breathe it in,
that centering
expansive as the whole pond
and all the sky
and the burnished sun
that rose softly

I needed that later
when the day was muted
and I rode in heaviness
despite the songs
I sang to myself
along the road

It didn’t come right away
but since I asked
and since I waited
and since Life is kind,
by the end of my ride
it came through.

©Wendy Mulhern
February 23, 2019

Morning Reflections

This early morning time
belongs to the geese, obviously.
There is no urgency to wake up,
though some are stretching
and some are blinking sleepily
and some are preening

The voices of the kayakers come first,
followed by the clunk of paddles,
followed by the view of them,
and then the water
circling and settling
after their turbulence

A man across the slough
fills water cans from his dock
and showers the green foliage
in his yard

Small birds sing rich songs,
light from the water shimmers in trees.
Summer will burn strong today.
For now the air is peaceful —
coolness of the breeze a soft benevolence.
Trees will hold its remnant in their shade.

©Wendy Mulhern
June 24, 2017