Tag Archives: nature

Cloud Cover

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Through the dark hours,
clouds raced on their night errands
accompanied by trees’ rush and wind chimes,
fleeting across the sky
(stars peering through from their distant field)

Early morning finds them running late —
patches of emergent blue not yet hidden —
but they’re moving with grand momentum,
sure they’ll have it covered
by sunrise.

©Wendy Mulhern
October 7, 2013


Evening contrasts

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The coziness of a heated house
is made stronger
by a foray into crisp evening
which is made fresher
in its contrast
with the warmth inside,
which is made sweeter
by the movement of the outside wind.
So blessed we are to venture out
and to return,
renewed, embraced
in this
as in the cycling 
of every breath.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 22, 2013


Tidal

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In the sea’s splendid surge —
foam swirling, gathering,
showing the grand dance of waves —
There is no resistance —
nothing that fails to move
in that symphonic harmony,
no molecule that bucks against the thunderous tide.

No more can we 
rebel against the law that moves us —
not as something separate from us
but in a oneness
like waves and water —
so we are held.
So we swirl, so we dance,
so we flow.
There’s no resistance
and there is no failing
in the surge of Life’s unending tide.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 14, 2013


Transition

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I stood in transition,
hip deep in now-quiet waters,
feeling the melancholy of change, of stasis,
of muted gray and green

Then to the west
appeared a crisp rip in the clouds,
bright blue streaking out
clean and deep behind the weather

And without knowing just what prompted me,
I slid, snakelike, into the waiting water
to slip my skin and swim.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 13, 2013


Sun Turn

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We rounded the bend
into the precipitous edge of fall,
the sky’s dynamics
dealing real cold air behind the clouds,
the sun’s warmth 
playing for higher stakes
and sometimes losing.

It was worth it this morning
to dress at three fifteen
and walk, almost blind, through the dark house
to find and muffle a light
and walk down to the water
to see if the stars
(so many, so bright)
would cast a clear reflection —
many did.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 6, 2013


Crickets

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Cricket song, like stars
in the soundscape of the night
illumines the crisp air
with points of aural light

Memories of moments
stretch across the years,
bright spots of joy
like cricket song
fill my eyes and ears

There is a place
for every sound,
for every voice.
So crickets,
alone and in their undulating chorus
invoke my inner song,
let my heart rejoice.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 4, 2013


Martha’s Vineyard, Labor Day

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It’s still hot and muggy,
windy and cloudy,
but now, baptized by salt spray,
I move through the air
as one who belongs here,
easing into the familiar lightness 
of bone, expansiveness of breath.

Crickets and small birds
sing songs of evening.
Masts of moored boats clank,
engines of boats and planes
stretch out loud against the quiet of the land,
the rain and thunderstorms
still pent, unspent,
but I’m no longer waiting,
now fully here.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 2, 2013


Transformation

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In the chrysalis
there’s nothing to talk about —
nothing of the former experience
with any relevance
to the transformation at hand

Unless, of course, there is —
unless the subtle flavors
of all those different leaves
you munched voraciously
with no articulation as to why —
Will now reveal themselves to be
precisely what you needed,
as their gifts are taken in and reconfigured
in the life for which the caterpillar had no words
but maybe somehow craved.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 21, 2013


El Dorado Canyon

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I fall into this place,
into a space deeper than words,
deeper than names and concepts,
deep as the dark pink of these boulders,
fresh fallen, broken open,
deep as the cool shadows
holding out against the cooking climb of sun,
hidden as the paths of roots
buried by rockfall,
thrusting and exploring underground
like those that twist along the surface
before they dive in.

No words can reach here now,
in the sudden knowledge
that flows along contours
and reveals itself
in cracks along the fractured face of rock
and in the eager shining path of streams
and their cold like gold
against my bare feet.

Later I will surface
and try to capture it with words,
Like that stone underside captures
light ripples from the stream,
like those dragonfly wings shine
bright against the sky.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 19, 2013