I seek to live my being
as a fountain,
just like these flowers do,
my substance entirely comprised
of the love force that rises
fragrant and colorful,
fresh-edged in the communion
of what it gives
with what needs it,
calling forth myriad responses
from myriad beings,
exulting in what it offers
and what it receives.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 20, 2019
After the rolling rhythm of riding,
before my biped gait,
I will bask in the ponderous rhythm of ocean,
the unhurried fall,
the patient wait
I can rest in this,
the time it takes for the flood of the wave,
its choreographed return,
meeting the next wave,
ducking down in,
the pattern repeating
far down the beach
Swallows, too, and gulls,
add their rhythm,
here in the sun and the wind.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 9, 2019
Dip your toe in color,
let the sensation spread
through your feet and up —
nothing stops the flood of light
No suction is required, no raking,
rubbing or coercing the color in —
it reaches your head and fingertips
in an instant,
you can feel its hum,
you can taste the pinks and purples
on your tongue
You can’t just walk away,
picture snapped —
you have been changed.
You’ll feel it in your steps
throughout the day.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 5, 2019
Night falls as soft as day,
the ending color and stillness
meet the beginning
and you can imagine
walking off into clouds
with the permission of May.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 4, 2019
Mystic harbor, grey on grey,
the breath of peace descending,
rainfall, nightfall, come what may,
the buoy clangs unending —
this, too, could be your song
Beyond the thought of what to say
or how the mood is trending,
the quietude can find its way
to meet your heart ascending —
you, too, belong.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 30, 2019
In this moment I understand
how green is magical,
how it transcends the rain
and is exalted by it,
how it finds a way to glow
even under the darkest sky,
how it fills me,
how it elicits joy.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 13, 2019
Can my prayer
be anything but constant?
Are there other things to think about
than Mind’s omniscient action?
or other things to feel
than Soul’s uplifting?
Are there other things to do
than Life’s unfolding,
or any other place I’d want to be?
I used to think it sounded dull
to never leave the temple,
but now I’ve been there
and glimpsed the size of it.
It’s everything, really,
and everywhere there is,
and I am happy
to go no more out.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 21, 2019
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
The day lasts much longer
outside the cabin,
mud and snow,
wind and radiant sun,
surprising green revealed by snowmelt,
fresh as spring
We have made this
little box of warmth
we can retreat to,
though it’s darker here
Night will bring moonlight
reflected on the last of the snow,
cold will draw all the heat
out from the floor
while we stay warm by snuggling
till morning comes again
with opportunities
for fire and sun.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 3, 2019
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