No moon.
Stars bright enough
to make me cry,
The blackness
of the sky between them,
The sound of surf,
The gurgle of the small creek,
The presence of the wind.
Ah! This is why —
This is reason enough.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 20, 2014
Oh, I recognize this,
Coming, as it does,
in the rush of weather changes,
wind chimes frenzied,
tree tops all astir . . .
I don’t know if I’ve seen it before
but I’ve felt it,
The way those distant trees
(one layer behind the houses
across the street)
Were suddenly gold,
lit up at full attention,
limbs held in sudden
transfiguration
for a long moment in which
all I could do was watch . . .
One cottonwood took the chance
to dance copper and brass
instead of its usual silver,
Wildly, in full abandon,
until the glow was softly
lifted away.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 19, 2014
There’s something striking
in straight lines merged with bendy —
Tree limbs framed in window panes,
Images of houses
ruffled in the river’s ripples
I came here along the braided curves —
River, bike trail, highway rising
into overpasses, thinking
“Everything about today is pretty”
For I also thought so earlier,
Watching the rolling arc of waves,
small and glistening on the glassy water,
curling to a small break
just before the curving shore,
almost too bright to bear
We bounced small rocks off driftwood,
We spoke of things arcane and lofty,
Didn’t need to seek
the places we might disagree
(so I didn’t mention watching
dragon-headed clouds with intelligent eyes
drifting in brilliant blue
framed by my arm crooked over my face
to block eye-searing sun.)
©Wendy Mulhern
June 16, 2014
The implicate order unfolds
in the waxing moon
and the track of shadows
across the day
and the tender individuation
of petals in their buds
and the steady resolution
in which my thoughts
come clear
And all the things I don’t yet know
remain still safe, enfolded
in the eternal order of the infinite
to come to my awareness
in the rolling presentation,
in its perfect time,
of all that’s implicate.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 10, 2014
I seek an education of ripples,
of boats, of geese with goslings,
a blowing through me of sweet June wind
whereby I may be informed
The afternoon hums with people
and the chorus of suburban machines
thrashing at grass, at hedges,
Flotsam of the day, fallen in the slow river,
floats down
I am not confused
but something is unfinished —
something asking me to pray.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 1, 2014
The sun, delaying its delivery
of promised strength,
drifts through a spread of casual clouds.
I doubt it will affect the day —
just my cold hands, in this brief moment
But it’s too early to be sure —
Sometimes the sun will gather more —
Whole sky-fulls to attendance,
drawn as they are, no doubt,
by its warm kisses,
Unconcerned (as are we all)
about their shadows.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 30, 2014
The uplands rise in harmony
above the meadow,
above the wetlands
where blackbirds sing
and land on cattails
rising from reflective waters
(last year’s rattling stalks,
this year’s eager green)
Above, the swallows dip and dart,
close their wings to surge and fall,
flick of tail or wing tip turning them
in flights as wild
as those of flying insects
The sky is still,
the morning light holds its breath
while all these weavings —
sights and sounds and creatures —
form a dome of peace
over this moment, over this land.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 26. 2014
The morning’s soft rain,
heralded by wind chimes
at the open south window,
conversed about by crows,
welcomed by waiting seedlings,
settled in cozy,
the outside air still warm enough
to allow it the run of the house,
the gentleness of May
embracing the quiet wetness
as fully as it yesterday
embraced the sun.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 23, 2014
(Matthew’s Beach, half past noon)
My mind is quiet,
As quiet as this water
with its slow undulation
and its quicker shimmers,
As quiet as the glide
of goose families on the lake,
Open to sky reflection
and the darker view
(underside of ripples)
of refracted colors
from the bottom, from the shore
My mind is quiet,
and the gentle, ruffling breezes
that rise from time to time
and stir up little waves along the shore
Are as patient and as aimless
as the fluff of cottonwoods
drifting and resting,
and the shafts of rippled sun,
Oblivious to all the local chatter
and the drone of distant boats
Quiet as the depth of
no need for decisions
as the day flows along
its broad and open course.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 22, 2014
The day knew how
to sit with me calmly,
to let me move
in my own rhythm,
to let me get better
in the company of plants —
tomato and basil and leek starts,
green onions, kale —
No demands were made
on my attention
while I moved slowly
in emerging sun
through tasks that kept my hands
in contact with the crumbly soil,
learning its nourishment,
approaching whole.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 19, 2014