We worked together.
It didn’t matter
that the rain roared through
from time to time —
We were given enough pauses
to move forward. We were given
maybe two sun breaks
and maybe two sun showers
We were given equanimity
and an easy rhythm
and some signs of progress
and now after dark,
rain settled in for the night, it seems,
we are given gratitude
for its forbearance
throughout the day.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 17, 2016
In small steps
we move toward cozy,
nestling batts between the studs,
walls filling in wooly
We dream of rugs and tapestries,
a wood stove,
some comfy chairs, some source of light,
friends in for tea on rainy evenings,
a little loft where we can spend the night
We dream, we work,
and it appears
as well is must
for we are makers —
more powerful than we have known.
We work, we trust,we make it happen,
we hold the vision and it comes to us.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 6, 2016
The rain was gone as quickly as it came,
but not for long. You could hear it first
on the far hills, as it made its way
down to the valley, and swept up
through grass and trees.
There was sun across the field
and a rainbow behind the dark firs,
and there were sparkles in the needles.
Again and again it came around.
Sometimes we were racing against it,
sometimes we were waiting it out.
Sometimes we were content with our condition,
sometimes less so.
We tracked a lot of mud onto the porch.
We made mistakes, corrected them,
discovered problems, fixed them,
in contrast and in counterpoint
to all the day’s moods
Brightened, towards the end,
by gifts of color, friendship, sustenance,
we came in from our labor satisfied.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 1, 2016
We start to know time
by different signs —
When the crickets get louder
and the turkeys make their afternoon rounds,
there are three more hours of daylight
and dusk will come soon
The work we started
when the day was wide and hopeful
now looms against the light’s boundary
like the shadows that now stretch
across the valley
We stop when it’s too dark to see
and evening’s light show awes us
with its ever-different glory.
Time to pause
and let gratitude rise from within,
about two hours before the stars begin.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 30, 2016
Clouds with a purpose
make their way across the hills,
leaning in to their destination,
companionable in their quantity
Tousled daisies tell the news
to each other in little flurries
of excitement,
(I keep taking my jacket off
and putting it on)
It may rain
We may abandon our work, or,
having no excuse, we may continue —
We are working easy today,
our hands not minding
the halting pace of our minds.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 13, 2016
The heat and the work
burned out all the pettiness —
There was nothing left
for being right or being wrong,
for being better or being worse,
for looking good or foolish.
there was nothing left
for irritation or disappointment,
hardly even anything left for thought
We recovered slowly
as the sun slowly relented,
and the bird song
which had been constant,
we started to notice again,
and gratitude started to flow in,
and affection,
and appreciation
for being in this together
and going out to the very edge
and holding hands
to make sure we would survive.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 31, 2016
In time we stopped wishing
we knew someone
who knew the answers,
stopped fearing
we would make terrible, stupid mistakes.
In this place, we are pioneers,
alone in the stature of our own thoughts
As we work
the generous scent of kindness
rises from the land,
blackbirds trill by the pond,
a raven riffs in a nearby forest
while songbirds fill the closer,
lower, places
with their exuberance
What we need to know
will come to us
in the logic of our needs
and in our birthright of belonging.
We find clarity as we listen,
we will fill our place
as surely as all of these.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 30, 2016
Your path, too,
has always been loved —
Though you have felt alone,
though you have wandered
haunted by so many whispered
cautionary tales
You have been seen,
you have been cheered for —
all your singularities
have been appreciated
Though you were warned otherwise,
you can never walk away from being loved —
That fact is always with you
like every other integral
aspect of yourself:
You can’t be separated
from your truth,
you can’t be severed
from your love.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 14, 2015
Today my pleasure was
weeds and a shovel,
and a job that required
that I keep on working
long past my usual
sense of endurance,
past being tired,
past making choices —
at the command
of the process at hand,
focus and repetition,
into the place of
not thinking anything
I have certainly earned
the rise and fall of my breathing,
the languor of abandon,
this feeling of being stretched out
like long winter grass
pressing into the earth.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 4, 2015
photo by Edward Mulhern
The task we brace against,
leaning together,
will forge our bond,
The brisk headwind and steady climb
will make us strong
We have no exercises,
retreats or seminars
(though we can see their value
with our resting mind)
Our work has captured up our dedication,
all of our energies therein aligned
This work is ours
and so we grow it
as trees grow limbs —
Its form arises
(ever surprising us)
from secret depths
where generative essences
reside within.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 8, 2015