The Celebration
Coyotes are celebrating
a fresh kill
on the hillside up from
my bedroom window.
The frenetic loops
snuck into my dream
a record skipping,
the volume too high
on a soundtrack
of horror-movie knives
Tag: poem
Keeping Watch
I am sitting with a blank page
In front of me
Ingrid colors forth boldly,
each marker’s snap fortells
a confident set of strokes.
A celebration is coming!
To my left
Zion is delicately, deliberately inking.
A portrait emerges,
fine black blades converge
over the faint orange sketch.
My page (now less blank)
is covered with the
scratches of my holding on
just a little while longer,
keeping watch.
The Invitation
I came back to watch
the glowing magenta lift off,
hungover with grief
and hungry to feel loved.
Not a cloud was in the sky,
just a rich haze hovering over the line.
Rainbows shimmered at my feet
as the muddy blue horizon gave way.
The geese, drifting silently,
took no notice.
The gulls, oblivious to this minor miracle,
laughed their way through yesterday’s celebrations.
I could be here, and I am.
But also I am not—
too caught up in a long-denied truth
and where it might take me.
The sun, now high and yellow and too-bright,
illuminated the edges of my pages
as the geese, flapping above me,
honked out an invitation.
And I accepted.
Not now, but soon
Four nights ago I heard
the sweet call of fantastic vision.
Hope of a life well-lived and uniquely played.
And rest.
But sunrise brought a flaming terror,
and burned out the peace I had tended to
over so many previous dawns.
The pain of loss (not now, but soon)
drove me to pull what remained.
But I have begun to dig
in this new, hard ground.
Cultivating the seeds of an invasive peace
that thrives in the cracks between stones
and spreads beyond intention.
The Pilgrimage and The Presence
A family of three skunks showed me
the way to the lake
and the shore where sailboats,
sparsely docked, stood swaying
under mountain ranges of cloud.
I waited and watched
as the sunrise persisted,
illuminating the foothills.
A window (rose with fiery peach linings)
opened above the dim red burn
and lightning splashed its fierce light,
revealing hidden crags and peaks.
All the while changing, changing.
Tiny, lapping waves watched
and whispered too.
This is not the only shore,
there is another sunrise.
