Tag Archives: nature

Hidden Skills

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I watched the ice — its shapes,
the way they fit together,
how they had drifted off a little space
and sat like puzzle pieces on the water
edges ridged and ready
to bump or join

I reflected on its quiet language
and the ancient rules of interface,
the same as has been done for many years
enacted here in just the last two days

A set of habits totally unseen,
scarcely imagined in the warmer seasons
emerging now, when they are needed
from water’s reservoir of hidden skills.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 22, 2019

Considerations

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(on biking before the storm)

Storm was predicted
and after the bright morning
it started to roll in

It is said that a wind passed through the mountains,
breaking the rocks in pieces
but the power was not in the wind
nor was the consequence
and there was a vast stillness
in the recognition
that none of that violence
could do anything
in the face of Truth

The snow was more benign than rain —
not wet enough to bother,
hardly visible, but finding its way,
sometimes, into my mouth
as I rode and considered
what it must mean
that the wind and the earthquake and the fire,
though they did break the mountains,
couldn’t do anything.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 19, 2019

Soft

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The day went soft.
Snow started but did not continue.
Ice on the pond got wet on top
and slushy at the edges.
Our feet stepped quiet
on the brown oak leaves

We, too, are soft —
soft towards each other,
soft in the tender places
where our edges touch

We may be overcast
but we are warm,
we may lack brilliant blue
but we still have sienna.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 18, 2019

Ice Edges

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Before today I never heard
the chittering of ice
or seen the way waves change
as water freezes —
ripples split against the frozen edge,
some rolling over,
some undulating under,
emerging preternaturally calm
but suddenly refracted
by fractured floating floes

Others have also been here
and also tossed rocks
to see if they would stay or sink,
they, too, may have been amazed
by the constant conversation
and the musical propensities of ice

Others also walk on ground
that bears years of memories,
their path can sink subtly into the past —
they can relive the former times
just as carelessly,
even as today lays down
new views and thoughts and feelings
to be revisited another time.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 13, 2019

Winter Beach

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January feast —
(many miles to go)
wind against my cheeks,
sand between my toes

Vision of the sea
shining in its thunder,
waves against the beach,
reaching, curling under

The ocean drew me there
with promise of delight
for eyes and ears and feet —
it didn’t disappoint

Now I ride home,
the headwind pushing back,
I feel the distance,
I feel my hunger,
but I am glad, too,
well fed by what I’ve seen —
I don’t know when next,
but I’ll be back again.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 6, 2019

Winter Water

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Could be a place you call home,
could be a place you call memory,
could be a mirror,
could be the path of a stone
sinking deep in winter water

All these clouds have gathered
to view themselves,
to feel their loft,
to lend the pond another layer
of depth and luminosity

We will go deep, too,
because we love to,
and we will float high
because we, too,
include the sky.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 3, 2019

New Year’s Day

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Rain and wind have washed the night,
the day comes boisterous, all gusts
and pent up clouds, released to romp
in blue, to stretch across the day

Grasses graced in gold and green
show silver sides before the wind,
and though it’s winter — many storms
to come before the spring —
the earth and sea both feel awake,
alert with life

I too can feel the ever present freshness
within, without — I too can be made new.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 1, 2019

Light Song

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Light sings through the woods like wind,
gold and shadows are its song,
it passes through them as through lace,
praising their interweavings

Late in the day, when ground
has passed to shadow,
the tops of trees still glow, still sing —
those heads first tousled by the morning
are last to see the sun’s rays leave.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 31, 2018

photo by Pam Cassel

Lightly

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Let my thought lift
like vapor at morning light,
separating, rising from the earth,
let my concerns disperse
in the sun’s clear radiance

I don’t need heaviness,
I don’t need worry,
don’t need to hold on to everything —
That which will bless me,
that which I am,
rests light as sunshine
on my head.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 21, 2018

Winter Solstice Ride

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Maybe there isn’t an easy way.
Maybe my journey forward
is long and hard. My joy, though,
is that there is a way,
and I can take it on

Today the winter solstice sun
has shined its gift, benevolent,
while rays of clouds assembled
the day before the storm

The sea, surprising in its paleness,
has given illustration:
this is the light, so live in it,
filled, transparent, humble, vast

The rain that comes tomorrow,
will offer its own gifts. If I can stay
reflective, true, responsive, kind,
I’ll know where next to set my foot
and that will be enough.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 20, 2018