This color of green —
light on leaves, light through leaves,
invokes a happiness
that shows my empathy
Like other living things
they are most beautiful
when they are receiving
that which feeds them,
when they are giving
that for which they were made,
when they are being
what they are designed to be —
drinkers of light,
bringers of sweet energy.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 11, 2015
Beneath the sky
my phone reports as cloudy,
my love darts up
to the soft curved body
of the gull flying low overhead,
pale morning color
glowing around its belly
And I feel sure
that it receives the love
as all bodies are designed to do —
receptors and transmitters
of what shines
brighter than light.
So I begin my prayer:
“Our.”
©Wendy Mulhern
June 5, 2015
Gulls glide like boats
up along the bluff,
their wings unmoving
Their eyes look like they’re riding
instead of flying
They come along in ones and twos
appearing between the tops of trees
They fly mostly
into the prevailing wind —
some up-close eddy must aid their flight —
their casual purpose
no more obvious
than any effort on their part,
their presence too common
for comment.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 31, 2015
The poetry of today
is in the gentle wind
and in the feathered shadows
cast by cedars on the house wall
The view from the cool shade
is lush, made brighter
by the slow closing of the sun’s window
as the tall trees
stretch their long influence
across the afternoon.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 28, 2015
Pasture, like water,
changes color with the hours,
the days, the seasons
Fog nestles in, and rises,
dew falls, and sparkles,
wind strokes the shafts of grass with light
under the half sun
Greens and reds from this year’s growth,
purples and silvers from last years,
shimmer in the full sun’s late appearing
No wonder I find myself
soaring. Joy bubbles lift me
(despite ungainly boots)
along the stream of bird song,
pure and high and clear
(sound of wingbeat in my ear)
the seething breathing of everything
filling me up whole.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 25, 2015
The unpredicted sun
presiding over fragrant spring
is tender toward the youthful leaves,
bathing them in incandescent brilliance
The air still holds coolness
except for where there’s neither wind nor shade —
Most of the day is dancing
in the freshness of the soft north wind
There is no hint here
of tomorrow’s showers —
It’s hard to prepare
for what seems so unlikely —
surely this perfect blue
will last forever
©Wendy Mulhern
May 20, 2015
Every living thing desires
to clasp hands with another,
desires to feel the interchange of juices,
to be strengthened
by what they give
and what flows back,
to feel potentials multiply
Every living thing desires communion,
to nourish and be nourished
by the whole,
Every living thing
fulfills the call of Life like this —
We can’t deny it —
We know what we want.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 7, 2015
The sun goes down without coloring,
as confident as it came up,
its gold still shimmering
as shadows rise in the grass,
gracing the underwings of evening birds
and whole bodies
of myriad insects
The hills behind which it dips
are already somber,
the fields are hastening
to join the visual hush
the air cools quickly
when the sun retires,
bird song continues
on into the dusk.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 2, 2015
The tawny insects hover and dart,
the swallows flit and dive,
the turkey vulture wheels, light through its wings
showing them golden from beneath
Sparrows chase each other through the brambles
flying low and straight,
a pair of doves coo and flutter
from fence to fence
Blackbird warbles ripple the air like water,
Sparrow trills and whistles magnify the sun,
the wind teaches me to breathe
in the broad generosity
of this land, this day.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 17, 2015
The dandelion seeds
nestle in soft fluff for a day
before they stiffen enough
(though still soft)
to be ready
Then the mother flower reopens
and the air ruffles their fuzz-tops
and they start to realize
in this time
they belong to this air
and they will leave
(impossible as it seemed the day before)
Their contact will loosen —
they will no longer be
part of this unity,
they will be singular
and the wind
will take them away
Not this instant,
not at a predictable time
but inevitably
they will be borne
into the greater whole.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 10, 2015