Sunday, November 10, 2013

A Spinning Gift for the Turning Moment (from the journal)

Catbird on the hammock.
It’s me that’s caught
her eye.  8-1-13

A gentle pendulum,
hummingbird’s tail
moves across the rosy sharons
as green as the leaves.  8-1-13

No sun to open the sharons,
hummingbird sits on yesterday’s closed flowers
and pokes with her beak.  8-1-13

Irritated wren
moves across the woods
faster than my eye.  8-1-13

Feathered yellow light
holds up two yellow swallowtails
nettled in a swirl.  8-4-13

That red-breasted bird lowers her breast
into last year’s red leaves in the one spot of sun
this cool morning.  Rufous-sided towhee.  8-5-13

That squirrel made the forest move.
Bee makes the sharon move.
The gray air makes nothing move.  8-6-13

Sky clouds moving east.
Earth clouds moving west.
Counterpoint before the rain.  8-20-13

Pye weed’s full pink heads.
Will they wait until I
get back?  8-20-13

I don’t know this bird.
Sounds a little like a rufous-sided towhee.
Let’s call him Morning Bird Who Sings in the Sea Air.  8-22-13

Between me and the pond
down there in the dense thicket,
there’s a cottontail and his kin.  8-23-13

When I go away from this balmy shore,
the sea oats will stay and hold my place.  8-23-13

This day belongs to mourning dove.
Repeating, he says so again.  8-25-13

More cicadas than
myrtle blossoms now.
One vibrates in the ear,
the other in the eye.  8-26-13

Nodding into the ground,
puccoon’s last yellow leaves
lean like sleepy pinwheels.  8-26-13

Above the white pines circling—vulture.
He sees me better than I see him and
he wonders about my pen.  9-3-13

The fading rosy lavendar that thinned out green.
That angle of yellow light.
They are all the end of something
the cool air carries away.  9-4-13

Look, there’s a catbird in the holly,
in a circle of sun.  He speaks softly.
I hear him.  9-4-13

So many days, books and libraries
soak up the hours. What choice?  
No choice.  9-11-13

Four geese overhead make an arm of a V.
They talk about it.  9-11-13

I’m feeling a little like columbine today,
yellowed and browned by the difficult summer.
Still upright on its stems, it is, though.  9-12-13

A round robin
of three families of noisy crows—
a circlet of crows?  9-14-13

Sieboldii’s one pink flower has a friend. 
And it has a mouth.
Well, a flower mouth.  10-31-13

Yellow sassafras and
cinnamon myrtle dance—
dark light, dark light, dark light.  10-31-13

I wrote it.  I sent it.  No surprise.
Let it be real in spite of everything.  11-10-13

Whose oak leaf fell in my hair?
A gift, a spinning gift
for the turning moment.  11-10-13