Catch me up in the echo of wind
blowing through the dark
with the comfort of miles traversed
up along the coast and through the city,
journeys of clouds and rain bringing promise
of the year’s steady, steadying turning
Let my wistfulness, that longed
to be wrapped and held,
be cradled in this,
the purpose that works its
equalizing movement
all through the night.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 1, 2015
It takes so little time
for wind and rain
to blow and wash away
the memory of that long stretch of heat,
for me to feel the quickened pace of fall —
The strong insistence of its shorter days,
the drop of needles, leaves, and time,
the carpeting of dampened, waiting ground,
the swift intake of cooler breath
There may be sun again
before the winter —
I just can’t feel it now
in this particular cross-pattern
of internal and external weather,
its mix of colors
bright and dark against my eyes.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 31, 2015
There was a moment
when the fields were gold
You could say
their essence was illumined
in that moment
You could say
they were made for this,
you could say that they were vessels
for the sun’s essence
in that last kiss of day
You could feel in that moment
like golden fields —
all lit up —
It would be bliss,
you and the sun —
it wouldn’t matter
how you defined it.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 29, 2015
August starts to daydream
about Autumn, curling her toes
into evening’s cooling sands,
concentrating the shortening sun
into goldenrod, seed pods
The pensive shadow of later mornings
and the cozy closing in at end of day
find her thinking of soft blankets,
still pouring out her strong warmth
to finish the harvest
before putting it to bed.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 20, 2015
Give me the lens to see the causal bones,
the structure upon which all movement hangs,
Let me see them shining there like jewels
beneath the mounds of things accumulated
Beneath the the names and forms,
the grades, the price tags,
and everything we shore up
in our struggle for security
Let me see how they stretch out
smooth and powerful,
glowing in translucent iridescence,
moving with the sovereignty
that marks their gait,
framing the procession of all life,
tuning the spheres
world without end.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 23, 2015
A month later
the grass has had its heyday
(though it has not been hayed)
The seed heads and the stalks
are dry
They have chosen
various burnished golds
Their work is done,
their celebration continues —
wind-dancing in the sun
amid the green bracken,
they sing softly with
the trees and insects
all through the afternoon.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 17, 2015
Just as my body sighed
with the heat of the hill climb
I was met with lavender
singing with its scent
about early morning watering
and gratitude for its essence
and the day
How could I not join in
as welcome wind brings high clouds
and a hint of change
and everything dances what it feels
and what it knows.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 6, 2015
Now and again in flashes
I get this image:
My foot touching ground
for the first time,
the knowledge of contact
flowing back into me
up the curve of my calf,
my knee,
I feel its echo down my arm
as if my arm had never
up till now
been really here
And I sense
that this discovery
is what I have always needed
to move with power in the world,
to be whole.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 5, 2015
If you are lost,
if in your story
you are missing
pieces of yourself —
perhaps your peace,
perhaps your groundedness —
if in your story
you are waiting to be saved
Look now, for in this very afternoon
where breezes chase each other
through grasses and daisies,
The ground holds everything.
It holds you as well,
infusing your feet
with all the power you need,
spreading the strength
of the whole earth
into the heart of your presence.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 21, 2015
Small insects are allowed
as is the busy hum
they make as a collective
Sparrow songs are welcome
as is the breeze, and the smell
of fresh scythed grass
The afternoon had a pause in it
which I only notice
now that the birdsong has resumed,
now that the sifting sun
has softened
and granted golden robes
to green undergrowth
so it glows royal
in the swift procession
towards sunset.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 18, 2015