May Comes Out to Curtsy

ElizRoseStanton

illustrator: Elizabeth Rose Stanton

E-mail to my sister in law:

I heard the fatigue in your voice on the phone when Don called.
All the Birthdays you hosted! The Tom healing…the Dad healing…all the grandchildren…Aunt Dotty…all the Wisconsin relatives….on and on and on.

Now it is May and Mother’s Day comes out to  curtsy. You are not the mother who says “what’s for me?” but the one who says “what can I do for all my motherly friends?”

Are you not the mirror of your mother? Is that not what she did?
And both of you welcomed me, as a third care-taker? Relieved that a grown woman would take care of your brother.

The circle of humor, patience, good will, enduring listening.
Bless us each and all!

Jeanne

Saying Goodbye to jch in 2016

HedalaAbuShaqra

Saying Goodbye in 2016

I won’t give you something
to remember me by;
you’re letting go of
gravity
clutter
biodegradables.

grasping
spirit
spirits
spirited
compatibles.

I’m
there.

quicksilver 4/30/2016

Accept What Comes From Silence

Monumentvalley

let

the vast

diminish you;

the silence

ruffle your feathers;

eternity

sculpt its tribute

on your face.

Accept what comes from silence.

Make the best you can of it.

Of the little words that come

out of the silence, like prayers

prayed back the one who prays,

make a poem that does not disturb

the silence from which it came.
   Wendell Berry

in “How to Be a Poet”

               final stanza added on in New Collected Poems

Last Things in Particular

Ruby by Lea Lyon

The Almanac of Last Things

From the almanac of last things

I choose the spider lily

for the grace of its brief

blossom, though I myself

fear brevity,

but I choose The Song of Songs

because the flesh

of those pomegranates

has survived

all the frost of dogma.

I choose January with its chill

lessons of patience and despair–and

August, too sun-struck for lessons.

I choose a thimbleful of red wine

to make my heart race,

then another to help me

sleep. From the almanac

of last things I choose you,

as I have done before.

And I choose evening

because the light clinging

to the window

is at its most reflective

just as it is ready

to go out.

Linda Pastan

(from Carnival Evening:

New and Selected Poems 1968-1998)

Lullaby

owenholding2

lullaby

let go

breathe

listen to  tibetan bowl

hum its home song

lilt its rocking swing

soothe its little one.

Become a tree

cherry-blossom-flowers-branch-petals-purple-pink-background

Be a tree in the storms of emotion.

Thich Nhat Hanh.

e

motion

pushes sap

tips bloom pink green

petals’ petticoats

My Bridge

HMStaffer'sTakayamaSprint1

The Bridge

My Bridge

                                

 sin is on the far side

recovery, near

dark steps, the beginning;

light washes the end

take small steps:

upbeat, cross daily

towards the light

awaiting; denial behind

o’er the bridge, redemption

reaching down His Hand

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