today

today
is my favorite day
because
my bright soul
greets your mammoth clouds,
sky,
with awe and gratitude;

and i like how you are now a cleancold  playful shower
and now a yellow lightpouring smile,

and my lungs know that life is lovely
even pedaling up the long slopes pointing there where polarbear cumulus forgot his lofty airs
and bellies down to your rooftops, town,

you town where i live
(but mostly breathe)
and smiling friends are gladglad company
–that bliss of friendplace where no matter how deep you dig things are okay;

but there’s more, the most meaningful more
comes in
because there is a Voice

whose Delight it is to puzzle
for us,you,me,humanity,
puzzle for us the Path,
the good,worthwhile,eternal,yes,soulsearing
Path that we Seek,
all we,
and the Voice speaks for the listening,
do you know?
the Voice is when crashingdistraction
of worldworld you shove away
(you can shove it away, you can!)
and then you can know for Real.

and so
today is my favorite,
and when tomorrow is today
(i don’t know)
maybe it will be my favorite too?
in that today
i’ll check for you
and let you know.

inexorable

inexorable
wander
lift out and set aside
to fall behind your shoulder in the wind those crumbling-anyway thoughts
that maybe sometime you could cycle back and piece into cohesion
but keep keep walking walking
walk walk on like every other day

halfway through that so-good story
set aside for drinking in numbing in pulling in
because You Are An Essential Part of this wondering world
wondering demanding seeking enormous generation
but why?

Grandmother says we go on, we go on

daisy chains die

daisy chains die
when you wear them all afternoon
up the mountain
into grassland coastview Glory Of The Sunshine
with silent new soulfriends
and talkative old acquaintances,
up and around and back down the same way
and home again,

they don’t last.
in case you were wondering.

When Death Comes, by Mary Oliver

.
When death comes
like the hungry bear in autumn
when death comes and takes all the bright coins from his purse

to buy me, and snaps his purse shut;
when death comes
like the measle-pox;

when death comes
like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering;
what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness?

And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,

and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth
tending as all music does, toward silence,

and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.

When it’s over, I want to say: all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was a bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened
or full of argument.

I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.

hey music,

.
hey

music,
thanks for sticking around
long enough for me to pull at you
(a tug here and a stretch there to make the corners fit),

hey
thanks for sitting with me,
music,
long enough to pull yourself out
(wiggle here, shift there, so my heart could be just right),

–it helps so much, did you know?

maybe if you stay,
music,
we could do even more, get even better,
if you want.

who, what

who knew the Sun could shine
warm enough to let my skin
remember all those times it burned?
incredulous that this season could come again–
What is coming next
(besides of course all the summer glow
of bright and water and shoulders)?

holding my griefbaby (separation anxiety, you know, it’s just a phase)
doesn’t seem too loving–
What else shall i do?

what else what else what else what else what else what else what

who loves me not,
Who Loves Me,
and what shall i do?

thank you, Sky

.

thank you, Sky,

for weeping over me.

i weep over you too.

over you

and over the coffee i don’t like,

the despair i can’t persist in.

thank you for teaching me to weep

softly,

torrentially,

beautifully.

nothing can hide from your tears,

only pretend

and precaution

and prevaricate.

everything is the same

and everything is different

when you weep and weep.

 

you’re the one who has to cover everyone.

what about the days you don’t want to?

you might feel like hiding sometimes,

but we’d die if you did.