Hot smoky wind
brings news of distant fires,
baking sun peers through the haze,
only slightly softened
Trees reach deep for liquid,
we, too, sustain ourselves
with deep cool water from our well.
Turkeys wander through the woods
undisturbed by heat and smoke.
What changes will we weather?
What weather will we change?
©Wendy Mulhern
August 9, 2018
Send my roots down
where they’ve never reached before —
the land is arid,
the former streams are dry
Send my roots down
to the hidden corridors
protecting the secret,
connecting the trees
Let the ancient, strong alliance,
feeding everything that touches in,
be what sustains me,
be what grows my trunk
and greens my limbs
Send my roots down —
it’s a long drought on the surface,
but here underneath,
we’ll share the streams.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 29, 2018
I think of
streams in the desert,
water to a thirsty land,
my soul longs for
something deeper than survival,
something that acknowledges
what holds us together
is richer and more comprehensive
than all these factors
and won’t allow us
to shrivel and die in the heat
but provides, from within,
that which makes us thrive.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 25, 2018
The heat will have its say
and tansy ragwort has had its way
with our fields — bright yellow proclamation
of ground disturbed, outrageous brilliance,
enough to out-radiate
the scorching day
We will wait in shade
and in the stillness
that allows the wind a voice.
Yellow jackets hum and then are silent,
and take up the buzz again
as the long afternoon stretches languidly
towards the evening cool.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 22, 2018
Wind blows through, bringing weather —
trees send the signal along the ridge,
pressure drops, flotsam falls from branches
prefiguring the coming rain
There is no stress within the mounting rush —
it comes with patience, each development
in its appointed time —
soft rolls of thunder, turkeys gobbling in response,
moving patches of darkened fields and sky
Then the showers, quick and cleansing as our tears,
here and there, sweeping through briefly,
wetting grasses, trees and roads
Then the angelic sunset
riding with us as we headed home,
touching down, reminding us of grace.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 24, 2018
The wind is periodically
throwing little handfuls
of what might be rain
against the skylight
The weather is welcome,
even after yesterday’s
almost impossibly round
full moon, and its light
through the windows,
through the night
Today fall has swung wilder
with the excitement
of turning leaves and tossing wind,
sun coming and going,
clouds darkening patches of sky
Now at night
we are grateful for heat
and being inside
and having had some good strides
through the dramatic day.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 6, 2017
I rest in the smug comfort
of intermittent torrential showers,
as I have already reaped
from the day
a magnificent ride
Cormorant swallowing a fish,
mourning dove perching on a wire,
houses of the towns pert and clean,
sun almost emerging from the clouds
The crash of wild high tide surf,
the thrill of strongly tugging water,
sun sheen emerging
at the height of drama,
sand and wind and soft sea foam
Flat high-topped clouds just whispered
of the chance of future thunder —
I drank in all the glory
to fill my morning hunger
Then I returned. Two hours later
rain descended,
making lakes of roads approaching five corners,
thunder rumbling high across the sky,
me content and gleeful to be dry.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 6, 2017
When the sky clears,
it’s bliss to be ready
to jump on that wind
and journey
northward with the flat-bottomed clouds
while wind chimes sing,
it’s enlivening to feel the cold
and be free to go
There’s a wistfulness to knowing
I will go inside and wait
for my time window to open,
which may or may not coincide
with the day’s hour of sun.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 22, 2017
The weather in mind
is the only weather,
so I am finding, as the rain
pauses after a steady night,
as I consider what atmosphere
will greet the old man
as he emerges
after a night of interrupting
our sleep (and his) many times
with bed changings and redirection
Surface cheer won’t hide
a grumbling interior, nor can
the lack of words, heard or spoken,
prevent the sunshine
of a deep welcome
This is my lesson for today,
which I will take out
into the overcast,
which I will shine into
any dreary places,
which shining
will make my day.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 15, 2017
It takes so little time
for wind and rain
to blow and wash away
the memory of that long stretch of heat,
for me to feel the quickened pace of fall —
The strong insistence of its shorter days,
the drop of needles, leaves, and time,
the carpeting of dampened, waiting ground,
the swift intake of cooler breath
There may be sun again
before the winter —
I just can’t feel it now
in this particular cross-pattern
of internal and external weather,
its mix of colors
bright and dark against my eyes.
©Wendy Mulhern
August 31, 2015