Accept its gifts as wafers on the tongue:
the grounded freedom of bare feet on stone
the kiss of sun on my hand's back
the secret breeze at the nape of your neck
the taste of ripe berries ready to fall
the shadow of roses on a wicker chair.
a single fuschia flower petal
spins suspended on a spider's strands
as bowing hydrangea blooms
dip their heads in dappled water
and somewhere over my right shoulder
a songbird has outlasted the crows
Sunday, October 15, 2017
where songbirds come
trilling resistance to hoarse despair
where determined dandelions press
through the broken back of concrete
and moss moves to meet them
while berries bob and hang
heavy with ripeness and ready to drop
where spiders find the needed stillness
to weave their winking strands
and monarchs ride the breeze
etching their shadows on lifting leaves.
Come into this place of birds and bees.
Notice the texture of living things.
Drink the sky and eat
huge helpings of sun-glazed air.
-CJM summer to fall, 2017
Friday, August 4, 2017
Thursday, July 6, 2017
where dark loam feeds and liquid air drips
and giants kiss eternity -
this place stops time.
Inside this world of earth-born movement
even the air gestates.
Life exhales and slakes,
creeps and burrows,
leaps and scurries,
climbs and flutters,
spinning a spiraling web
of reincarnation and revelation.
As I breathe these whispers, wise and evergreen,
I come to believe heaven is covered in moss.
Tuesday, July 4, 2017
|Photo by Peyman Zehtab|
Crayfish time lingers and bides
In its underwater world
Crawling and drifting through ancient molecules,
Wary and defensive, its weapons poised.
Inside this tiny crustacean’s armor
Beats the heart of a dinosaur,
Primal survival lurking beneath
The cool, calm surface.
A callous cannibal. A secret, solitary scavenger.
I swoop in to snatch it up
In a heady delusion of mortal power.
Thursday, June 29, 2017
Hummingbird time zips and hovers with
Millisecond shutter speeds
Darting between atoms and moments
While my now stands still.
Rest is movement,
A blink is loss,
And energy the magic that drives the world.
I pass patient hours
Hoping for its fleeting kiss of beauty.
Monday, June 26, 2017
My father, who is
Irish, said. It's short.
Life, said my mother
is more than enough.
Too many people come up
short just by giving in.
In this life
our task is
to eat-drink-love-laugh too
much so we don't come up short.
Life pushes you. It
is a party guest with
too much to eat and drink
short-changing the waiters.
Life is too short to
crush hard-boiled eggs
count gray hairs and lost loves
eat boiled potatoes without butter
spend your last nickel on toothpaste
grind your teeth at 3 am
lick cupcake frosting alone
squelch a red-headed spirit
iron a funeral shirt
chase after unresolved chords
deny yourself peppermint sticks
lasso empty promises
explode airy castles
flood your soul's doorways
choke on inconstant love
serenade a fickle mailman
say nothing to the boy with dimples.
Short, too, as life, is
the savoring of an eclair
the bloom of an iris
the butterfly's sojourn
the chance to be heard
the leaping gait that scales fences
the twinkle in your blue eyes
our days of courtship
our nights of bliss
the pause before the tsunami hits