Tag Archives: nature

Wind

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The wind is blowing
through the trees, through the masts
whipping up the water
It is a constant rush, a varying roar
a restless conversation
White clouds sometimes get spread
before the sun
their shadows swiftly borne
across the land, the water
It has been like this all day
Such power
Effortless, insistent
Pulled by some invisible, compelling urge
Through and through the hours

I know this wind
It’s not infrequently
it blows through me all day
Feeling of constant crescendo
moving me, lulling me,
sweeping me mystical
Bearing me off on a dream.

©Wendy Mulhern
September 8, 2012


Blue Moon, August

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(Martha’s Vineyard)

One last warm summer night
Moon I can read by
(well, not quite)
But enough bright water
wind lapped, moon filled
to light up our boat and its sail

Our wake turns in sparkles
beside the bow
The boat trips along through the waves
Night air fills our spirits
with exhilaration
Elixir out-boosting the day

Someone once told me
the full moon will always shine
Push all the clouds aside
ruling the sky
Here, indeed, 
though a choir of clouds has appeared,
The moon passes through them, 
lighting them all.

So blessed, they approach it
They circle, they bow
They frame it, they veil it
But still in remains
To dance with them, kiss them
send them along,
and stand, then, alone in the sky.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 31, 2012



Late August

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Summer tumbles
in somersaults and quick cartwheels
Everyone rushing to have fun
Taste last fine times while sun’s
bright fruits 
still ooze their juices

Night falls faster
Crickets’ serenade continues
Coolness creeps around the edges of the days
Goldenrod reigns
And the scent of dried wildflowers,
And pangs of endings and beginnings
crash into each other’s heels
in a dazed attempt
to brake
against the steep acceleration of the year.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 25, 2012


Being Here

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(Mid August, Vineyard Haven)

Cardinal swoops over the roof
Chickadee perches on the screen
Behind the songbirds’ companionable chatter,
Motors roar — boats and planes
Voices rise across the water
Metal masts clang in distant wakes

Smell of onions cooking drifts up from the kitchen
Pale clouds drift across the languid sky
Trees and pond stand still in windless afternoon
There’s space enough between the sounds
for each to take their turn

Later come the crickets
till the soft warm rain silences them
Though it can’t silence
the beat of party drums and tunes
and dance laughter
from the town across the pond.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 15, 2012



Daily Poems

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Every day has a poem in it
— That little girl starting to run,
short-stringed kite two feet above her head
Her mom, walking behind her, smiling
(colors: pink, purple, red)
— That man on racing bike,
his smile denoting deep contentment —
Each of these are poems
though only briefly intersected here

Clouds dance along horizon
reminding me there’s more
than the smell of tar,
the roar of motors;
There are
Echo tunnels on the trail,
A chalk-drawn paean to Love
(now almost washed away)
And a delighted Downs boy with a dog

The sun begins to cook the day under the overcast
The coolness sighs and looks for places to lie down
The wind bears thistle fluff along
and sets it in the river
Small girls with their grandma play around

Every day has a poem in it
I only need to dip my head in
like these ducks
Reach beneath the surface,
Pull it up.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 8, 2012


Twilight, Green Lake

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Down under the trees
We watched the slow darkening
of green leaves
against the blue of sky
viewed from below
while evening’s glow
settled on the lake

And we had no hurry
We had time to rest like stones
Releasing the day’s heat into the night
And we could speak in low tones
Close enough to hear each word
To feel the peaceful rise and fall of breathing
And the ease of shared feeling,
Understanding rising as the light receded.
Relishing the much needed
stretch of growth together
Like these trees that gain their inches
in the dark.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 5, 2012


Homing

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The water is homing
Carving deltas in the sand
Delta for change
though this is timeless
Water homing
A grand joining
from every place where it had seeped
at high tide
Water flowing
in zigzag patterns of the moment
through the sand
Pooling in our footprints
Dissolving them, but halted
for a time
in the impressions

Water like multitudes, molecules
Each called alone
Moving together as one
Water like 
us claiming our freedom
through the simple act
of moving as we are called.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 4, 2012



Seattle Summer

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There may not be a way to find a reason
why these delicious days are rationed —
Whether to preserve their fragile, fragrant freshness
or the eagerness with which our skin receives them
Or whether it’s designed to keep us guessing
Or ready us for some exquisite blessing
in some other realm.  No matter —

The brilliance of today
will leave a mark across the summer
Shine its golden rays
over many cloudy cold ones
Teach us to embrace it
and every potent sign
of imminent awakening,
each glimpse of the divine.

©Wendy Mulhern
August 3, 2012


Gardens

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So many things in my garden are bolting

Racing against death
Preparing a dual departure:
Packaging their life into capsules for the future,
Letting their stalks fall back into brown

In the face of my neglect
The plants perform their dramas
Weeds stake out their turf
Flowers stretch and bow extended stems
Bees and rain bestow their ministrations

Some year, I think, my garden may be tended
Each tender plant well fed
with soil amended,
The weeds, with gentle firmness
kept in hand
The flowers celebrated, blooming
lushly, just as planned

But I’m distracted by another realm
Where, like fennel weeds
My dreams extend their gangly fronds
And wave about, seedy and untended
When I visit them, I have no clue
Which ones to pull, which ones to prune
Or what to do to garner greater flourish

So neither garden gets my full attention
And both grow wild, and dry, and spare
But still, in both, the sun-drenched flowers
Summon me, and touch me there.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 26, 2012



Possibilities

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I’ve been keeping a door open all day
Maybe some bugs have come in
But there’s a sweet breeze
and a gentle whistling of the air
and something that turns my feet
subtly sideways towards the opening
and sets my thought softly drifting
towards the outside
A place where currents blend
And fragrances combine
in ways that offer journeys for my mind
And bees do their persistent work
And birds and squirrels offer commentary

I’ve been keeping a door open
to draw me out
And to offer entrances
In the steady breathing
that’s called home.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 22, 2012