vindication

for once, youth puzzling
over a grandmother’s phone
as unable to fix her problem
as she had been herself
she sighs with pleasure

stone moon eclipse

seven october of the fourteenth year
into the twenty-first century
moon full
of cheese, and self
brilliantly shimmering earth
in doubly reflected light
unreflective of its own veiling
fate soon to befall

eight october, earth’s midnight
though irrelevant to the stars
alerts men to the need to watch
the hour is come
signifying passing
of celestial ships in the night
predictable; calculated
yet dogs whimper
coyotes, jaws red, pause, uneasy

moonlight dwindles in hours
through phases of the moon
from full to brilliant sliver
face tan, then beige
darkening to faint, earthy brown
tinged ruddy like mississippi mud
lithified by eons without water
stone moon eerie
in wisp-clouded sky

old tillie

like the 19th century lighthouse
atop rock scarp of Oregon shore
she is battered by his sneak
waves of betrayal

quiet, please

first, i breathe
close my eyes to let the air
flow in, and anxiousness flow out
however raggedly
funny that closed eyes can shut out
at least momentarily
the demands of a world
i cope with only fairly well
in that moment of clearing
my mind and lungs
i center somewhere near
my wellspring of joy
knowing i’ve strayed
without being aware how far
though that wells spring’s overflow
nourishes my soul
perspective, that’s what quiet gives
a gentle light that balances the dark
gives it tenderness, acceptance, compassion
be still, i am reminded
and know
that I am God

slots

arizona’s compressed red sandstone
frazzles into sandpaper wind
but welcomes not a gush of rain
does not absorb its needed
cool moisture, but sheds it
into runoff that gathers with
other rejected trickle that stream
running headlong across the desert floor
diving, gouging, carving slot canyons
glorious in their smooth, sinuous
twists and bands of color
deep by twice or thrice the height of men
but narrow enough often for man to reach both sides
with outstretched arms
adventurers, unaware they are gambling,
lower themselves into these
slot canyons, awed into silence or quiet comment
explore under fierce blue sky
not knowing stormclouds a score of miles afar
have contributed to a gushing flood
now racing toward the low point
scoured years before along unyielding path

what matters

i have loved
and been loved
i love
and, joyously,
am loved beyond measure
all else
let it be

september’s glory

september’s glory
fluttering yellow
like a meteor shower
of leaves, twirling
in a dance of wind
and gravity
settling with a sigh
to warm, rich earth

flat as a washboard

my knuckles remember washboards
dulled gray metal ripples
in a wooden frame with two legs
tough – on stains, and me
mom and i poured extra soap
on the bunched discolored cloth
pressed it hard into the rough surface
and scrubbed up and down, up and down
the gathered material never
quite enough cushion to save
my hands, but effective
if enough discomfort was applied
to the task
with the cloth now stain-free
or nearly so
we lobbed the work overalls
or the grass-insulted dress
into the agitator
i loved watching the roiling
after sufficient writhing
mom pulled the plug
to drain washwater, then
turned the tap to hose in
clear for rinsing
before we cranked the handle
of the wringer to squeeze
each piece, but never,
as i desperately feared, my fingers
ready, finally, for the mangler
mom straightened and smoothed
sheets on its padded surface
and lowered the heavy, white lid
steam escaped, hissing, from the far end
flat as a washboard
stirs in me memories of mom
and i working in the slanted light
from high windows in our basement
so many years ago

Stellar’s jay

sudden flight
wings outstretched blue
against backdrop of rusted
yellows, auburns, scarlets
vital greens of oak
elm, poplar, larch
burst of azure
insistent
against autumn
change