First of October — Day’s Report

after-rain

The rain was gone as quickly as it came,
but not for long. You could hear it first
on the far hills, as it made its way
down to the valley, and swept up
through grass and trees.
There was sun across the field
and a rainbow behind the dark firs,
and there were sparkles in the needles.

Again and again it came around.
Sometimes we were racing against it,
sometimes we were waiting it out.
Sometimes we were content with our condition,
sometimes less so.

We tracked a lot of mud onto the porch.
We made mistakes, corrected them,
discovered problems, fixed them,
in contrast and in counterpoint
to all the day’s moods

Brightened, towards the end,
by gifts of color, friendship, sustenance,
we came in from our labor satisfied.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 1, 2016

gift-from-susanne

Working Outside

evening-light-show

We start to know time
by different signs —
When the crickets get louder
and the turkeys make their afternoon rounds,
there are three more hours of daylight
and dusk will come soon

The work we started
when the day was wide and hopeful
now looms against the light’s boundary
like the shadows that now stretch
across the valley

We stop when it’s too dark to see
and evening’s light show awes us
with its ever-different glory.
Time to pause
and let gratitude rise from within,
about two hours before the stars begin.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 30, 2016

Welcome Fall

beelady-farm-2014

The rain is welcome
and the damp breeze is welcome
and the coziness inside the house
is welcome

Time to let the rivulets of life
seep, welcome, into the soil,
time to reinforce the roots
with life connections

Time for design, time for welcoming friends,
time for mending sweaters, making food,
time for preparing
for our next venture to the land,
time for gratitude.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 17, 2016

Fall Again

neighborhood-fall

And suddenly, it’s fall.
Through a rainy passage
it emerges, and now the leaves
that seemed evidence of drought stress
settle into grace,
the dry ones underfoot,
the red ones that started turning
with the dawn of August.

Prickles of cool air
brighten the sun.
The urgency of shorter days
starts to stir in my chest
along with the aching beauty of everything
in last resplendence
before heading home to rest.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 9, 2016

Lesson for Today

morning by seep

With infinite patience
the land teaches us. The lessons
flow in slowly, altering our attitude,
our posture, changing us
from the inside out, letting us realize
the magnitude of what it demands,
but also the way we can meet the need,
the way to proceed
at the speed of seasons
where everything has time to harmonize,
at the speed of fog rising
and clearing,
of dew forming
and drying,
at the speed of frogs and crickets,
blackbirds and ravens,
grass and fern and fir tree
all breathing together,
at the speed of knowing right now,
of being and doing
what is needed.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 31, 2016

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

Golden Gardens, Early

Golden Gardens

Curl of the beach,
curl of the bay,
straight line of curling waves,
low tide, the luring smell of sea,
the counter-swirl of clouds

We sit in our cove of freedom,
togetherness, this time of morning —
ideas performing like kingfishers,
jokes like crows,
punctuate the smooth spread
of the light we are offered,
the wide expanse of reflection

We could make a life
out of moments like this,
memories of doing free flight,
whole-bodied knowing,
saturation of understanding
washing us to the cusp of communion

Heat rises from the dry sand
as we walk back,
trees stand as keepers
of the temple of deep shade,
bestowing their blessing upon us
as we depart.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 13, 2016

Sights and Sounds at the Early Lake

gray morning lake

The morning’s gray whisper,
the limpid rays of reflected light
straying across the quiet water,
soft folds against the shore

The puncture of dog bark,
the rip of plane engines,
the glide of gulls and ducks,
scrishing footsteps of walkers,
rising of ripples, a chance of rain.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 10, 2016

Boldly

Katama 2

On that morning
after the first thunderstorm
when the wind was still warm and moist and gusty
and the waves blew in boisterous cross directions,
light gray-green, hazy and salty

I had no fear
of the caution-warning voices,
no fear of surf crash or riptide
or the blanket enjoinment
against swimming alone

I knew when I got down the beach a ways,
I would go in boldly,
running down to the place
where the round stones tumbled
and I could dive through the turbulence
into the calm
so I could bob in the delightful coolness,
up and down with the waves

I felt so surely my belonging
in the elemental lustiness,
in the dance of water,
in the spray of salt,
that I didn’t know what could possibly
convince me to come out

Till suddenly it was time
to ride a wave
and find my foothold in the flowing sand
and step out while strong water
grabbed at my legs,
dig my toes in,
climb out into the morning wind.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 1, 2016