Though it is past solstice,
darkness still comes on sudden –
though the day has been bright
and there’s still pale orange
around the horizon,
the trees have gone all silhouette,
bringing their near blackness
into the equation,
and the half moon, now in mid sky,
is already bright.
Early to bed and late to rise
seems a good motto
in this very cold time of year.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 4, 2017
Late in the drizzly night
we walked past puddles
while nearly bare November trees
glowed slick in the streetlights
We talked of ascension,
of hopes and struggles,
of resolutions versus being present,
our boots familiar with the dark streets
It had been sunny earlier
but we missed that window,
brief as it was in these
end of year days
It was good, finally,
to rally against darkness
and the onset of rain
to drag ourselves from early sleep
to amble on our customary rounds,
to talk and find our solid common ground.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 26, 2016
The rain is welcome
and the damp breeze is welcome
and the coziness inside the house
is welcome
Time to let the rivulets of life
seep, welcome, into the soil,
time to reinforce the roots
with life connections
Time for design, time for welcoming friends,
time for mending sweaters, making food,
time for preparing
for our next venture to the land,
time for gratitude.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 17, 2016
And suddenly, it’s fall.
Through a rainy passage
it emerges, and now the leaves
that seemed evidence of drought stress
settle into grace,
the dry ones underfoot,
the red ones that started turning
with the dawn of August.
Prickles of cool air
brighten the sun.
The urgency of shorter days
starts to stir in my chest
along with the aching beauty of everything
in last resplendence
before heading home to rest.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 9, 2016
Late February puts on spring
like an affect, the casual
lap of shadows
across the afternoon,
the sun, fleetingly benevolent,
early blooms taking full advantage
of a head start on processes,
tiny insects, at home in the moment,
inhabit this day — their only universe,
where air to them is viscous
and sun eternal.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 25, 2016
Winter is not finished.
Perhaps it has not even begun —
it paces wide fields, pauses
in wooded corners,
turns with an abrupt flourish
of long, dark cloak,
releasing torrents — wind and rain,
maybe even snow
Head down, it broods,
and now and then
lifts blazing eyes
to meet your gaze,
to draw you in.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 22, 2016
It’s not quite time
to settle
into the coziness of darker days,
the smell of inside heat
while winds blow outside
and the sun comes just
in scattered, rapid glances,
and rain spatters
and there is no guilt
in staying inside all day
Now the squash have played their hands —
some will roll in flush and full to harvest,
some are banking on a longer season,
their fruits now small and hopeful and daring
And the heart race
of this span of opportunity
pulls me forward —
right to the edge of what I can know,
right to the hungering yearning urge
to keep leaping, one bound after another,
into open space.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 15, 2015
Today the artful wind
harnessed exuberance,
filled the early sky with roiling gold,
chased it, then, with dark showers,
burnished leaves whipped along the road
Then momentary blue, then
the full palette of fall’s splendor
lit up against the backdrop
of a gray sky
And I was nourished
by tunnels of color,
roads wreathed in leaves
above and under,
Fed by red, maroon, gold and umber,
eased into evening
by the sky’s
wind-swift turning.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 6, 2014
Summer blazes on
day after sun-ruled day,
Night’s sweet release
comes late
We start to wait
for the wind-chime heralded
south breeze,
to signal change,
to signal rain
For years we wished for this,
A summer we could count on.
We can’t complain —
Every day is splendid
and their still are places
we can hide from heat
And the city haze,
though it accumulates,
has mostly blown away,
Our slightly sun-stressed
crop of gratitude
still sturdy.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 1, 2014