We were there to harvest
the gold of the day,
exhilaration
when sun has overcome
the last night’s rain
Damp leaves quivered
with surface evaporation,
breath-catch of being here,
the moment’s radiant warmth
Later the clouds came across
and maybe there was more rain
(later we were inside, where noticing
is not strictly required).
In memory, and in the camera’s capture,
the morning’s gold will stay.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 24, 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 rain is gentle
and the early fall is gracious,
leaves on the ground and in the trees
fringing the streets with color
Artisan spiders weave raindrop gems
into their webs,
coziness settles in
with the darkened sky —
I may be solo
but I’m not alone.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 1, 2018
Insect arcs like flecks of sun
flit across my path —
I see them as threads
weaving in parts of a pattern
I knew about in theory
and still don’t understand,
but now can see a bit more
of what they’re connected to
My path, this inefficient tracing
back and forth, up and down
along the day
is also flecked with sun
and the reflections of my mind
and the rhythm of my gait —
these, too, are all part of the same thing
which I haven’t mastered
but can dance in.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 21, 2018
After all, why wouldn’t we
want to share our little cabin with mice?
It’s the warmth, I think,
that attracts them,
more than the food,
about which we’ve been careless
One day after rain
in the chill of evening
we lit a fire
to make things cozy
and early the next morning
we heard running in the roof
And this evening we found a little mouse
fallen down onto the hearth.
My husband captured it
and took it for a long walk
He said it was just a baby.
I said, if it’s a baby, maybe it’s a rat —
a soothing thought to take to bed.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 18, 2018
It’s no small thing that we are given,
an afternoon with wind and ravens,
wind occasioning the dance of gracious firs,
ravens giving distant comment
There’s more — the blue of sky,
the blessing of companion hammocks,
the sense of never again needing
to have a story,
the blessed absence of internal words.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 2, 2018
All is given
in earth as in heaven,
change and foundation,
challenge and haven
Earth is not helpless —
the law that permeates
presence and consciousness
holds her as well
Strong winds don’t bow
to the whims of man
but they go as directed
by all-knowing hands
Let me be filled
with all-moving Spirit
where all is forgiven
in earth as in heaven.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 10, 2018
The evening chirps of turkeys
are almost as refreshing
as the coolness that hasn’t come yet
(though I expect it soon)
— something like the sound
of bright cold water drops
I know enough by now about their language —
this chirping is the dialog of mom and chicks:
I am here and you are here —
let’s gather in this place
and call it home —
we are safe when we are here with you,
you are safe with me
They’ll fly up later into trees,
the mama birds will spread their wings,
the chicks will snuggle in.
The cooling night will magnify their coziness,
its quietude a lullaby for them.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 23, 2018
(to Oohna, inspired by a collaboration)
Alleluia, intoned the lark,
for song can overcome the dark —
take it under your wings like wind
to soar through the bright canopy
and bring the light of hope across the land
in echo of the joy of morning trees.
Listen within to where your heart says, “hark”
and say amen — so you become the lark.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 17, 2018
These days the bottom falls out of us
at unexpected times.
It could be a good thing,
dropping us through
our soggy cardboard efforts
to hold ourselves together,
down to the waiting, changing land,
the rain and all the spreading seeping
and the tender sparkles
of returning morning sun.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 9, 2018