Beginning or Ending

Under a waning moon,
I lay in the grass before dew had formed—
Though it was cool and damp,
Like quickly dried hair after shower.

Sky darkened and stars went away,
Birds were asleep and out of the way.
I sensed calm descend along with piercing sight
Not known in heavier heat of day.

My tongue was wood and my limbs were stone,
Tired eyes were about to succumb to sleep.
Under my head were strands of grass,
Clear in my mind, the hair of the Earth.

The lawn was a carpet that stretched to the end
Where trees towered unseen where they bend
Like willows that reach to bring their arms
Swaying in breeze as they work their charms.

This is the World I inhale into lungs,
Absorb into skin and take deep into bones—
This is my place, this is my home, this is my time….
Beginning or ending, my rock and my peace.

I Find Myself Everywhere

Last night, I woke in darkness,

Discovered I had become drops of rain

Falling hard upon the roof.

This is not the first time.

Last year, I opened bottle of vintage wine,

Breathed in bouquet, realizing

I was not only the wine, but crushed grapes,

Even vine on the hill, warm under Sun.

 

On Fourth of July, I am always

Shooting stars exploding in night;

Or the red canoe covered by winter snow

Down alone on the shore of the lake.

I am the bull in the meadow;

Sometimes trout swimming alive up streams.

More than once in cities,

I was paper blowing down windy streets.

 

The cracked china plate in the cupboard is me,

More often than I admit I see.

But never am I afraid to acknowledge

I’m full moon behind the clouds or the trees,

Candlelight flame on the mantle….

Singing cricket on summer’s evening—that’s me.

 

But never am I the big sharp knife in the drawer;

Never the rifle waiting hidden behind the door.

Please, God, never the weapon that wounds.

See me instead as chipped cup that still holds tea.

Look for me when searching for first robin

Singing in early spring or eagle soaring or

Ancient mountain forever sleeping beside calm lake.