Tag Archives: nature

Winter Sun

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winter sun

The arc of winter’s day,
like the early crescent moon,
is clipped — dawn comes late and cold
into the frosted town,
mist hangs, bright and pale
between the shadows

Noon brings warmth
and polished gleam
to bare tree limbs,
though the sun stays low,
the shadows still substantial

Cold will come soon —
even any moment —
when the sun slips
behind the tall, dark trees
and heads quickly
like a child coasting home on a bicycle
on the last leg towards night.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 14, 2015

Winter Solstice Eve

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moon night

The longest night
comes and passes by,
Clouds scud across the dark sky,
Stars reveal that they were always here,
through the day, through the rain

Wind walks the hooded land
in its efficient stride,
Trees and chimes make comment,
Thoughts glide,
moving like the wind
along the canted
planes of observation,
ever slanting towards tomorrow
and the steady flow of everything
through the timeless changes
of ever cycling life.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 21, 2014

Strength

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rb tree trunks

Realizing today
(balancing along on a curb,
wind blowing through the city,
clouds clearing)
that strength is in cohesion,
capacity to spread the load
along a span, to share
the impact

Sensitized
in the unity that sends
the darting signal coursing,
wing tip to wing tip, humming
down the bow-taut curves,
every inch in tune,
harmonized, alive

Strength is not in isolation,
not in hardness, not in standing out
amidst a crowd —
It’s in the giving of one’s currents
to the whole, the glad surrender
of one’s atoms
to the grand red rover
of oneness with the team.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 9, 2014

Colors

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colors2a

I came back high
from riding colors,
swooping like a swallow
down the many currents
of perception

Feeling the excitement,
the waking up inside
of all that saturation,
steeping myself in the burnt sienna
of dried leaves after frost,
cleansing my palate
in distant sage of afternoon spruce,
intoxicated
with sun-soaked golden green
against a shaded hollow
and enchanting russet of sunset
on bare tree limbs

It was enough
to fill me up,
to satisfy an unacknowledged need
and inundate my moments before sleep
with all those combinations,
infusing me with unexpected joy.

©Wendy Mulhern
December 1, 2014

Marcola, November’s End

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The rain holds conversations with itself
and with the wind,
falling down on several metal roofs,
tapering off, then thinking
of something more to say,
The over-full river
occasionally adds a murmur

We eavesdrop for a while
inside our cozy cabin
until lulled toward sleep,
our minds washed with visions
of the beckoning land.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 29, 2014

Landing

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landing2a

They were tired of living on a set,
Tired of days under electric suns
in houses with cardboard walls
with all their plastic food and friends,
their plastic props, their plastic topics

They found themselves longing for loam
with its uncompromising scent,
and wood fire — how these things
cling to your skin and get inside your dreams —
for true work and true harvest

And ways of moving with the land
that leave little need for words,
and no time to worry at
nit-picky issues of their egos
and their relationships —

Finding their unity and their identities
in concert with the present forces
and today’s insistent needs,
the smell of leaves and rain
and the sweet falling to rest
at day’s end.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 22, 2014

For Now

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trail

I have restrained myself
from noticing too often
how close this day lies
to the one last year,
how instant the return has been
to this place in the cycle

Fall to fall, time of fruition
to the last one, things accomplished,
things which, though they’ve gone through convolutions,
and many permutations,
seem uncannily the same

I try not to mention how surprised I am
how fast the moon wanes, then is full again,
or note the blip of weekends,
one quick tick after another —
like second hands, they sweep around

As for moments, they seem mostly full
and mostly singular. They don’t roll by
as rapidly as years. That’s why I try
to keep my focus here.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 13, 2014

Cold Snap

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cold snap

The urge for hibernation,
held, till now, at bay
by so many color saturated
delightful days
receives a strong inducement
from the sudden cold —
seeping through the weave of clothing,
tightening my skin —
and the soft contrast
of the heated house,
and the early dark outside

Why not succumb
to the rumbling and rolling
sweeping world of dream
as folded and layered as covers
above sleep’s turnings,
wild as any autumn cold snap,
enticing as the blankets’ cave
of inner warmth.

©Wendy Mulhern
November 12, 2014