Visible Sound

The wooden elephant

carved and painted

in lines of gold on black

is exaggeratedly narrow 

from chest to tail.

The legs are impossibly

tall and straight.

The head's thrown back,

ears falling long, and the trunk

raised high to the sky.

'I can hear him trumpeting,'

Andrew says. I look

and yes, the sound

is clarion. 'How joyous,'

I add, 'How triumphant!'

Tree Poems

Moving in the Breeze

I'm not the first to see

that the trees' bare branches

are like slender arms —

but I see this

as if for the first time 

now.

*******

Anchor

One old, thick trunk

among the more recent

and more delicate ...

from its solid width

the lowest boughs

extend like wings —

strong wings

of guardian angels.

The roots are spreading as far

as the tips of the topmost leaves.

Oasis

I enrolled in the Writing and Spiritual Practice course because I want an oasis, a space only for me. Late at night, I read the first questions and exercises. After awhile I notice I am sucking my thumb. I did that when I was a child. It gave me self-comfort and deep contentment.

Frog on the Pane

The window-frog

half the length of my thumb

has a pale underside

and littlle green toe-pads 

like pin-heads.

(Written 28 Nov. 2011 and just rediscovered.)

The Sound

... the sound of the rain outside

like loud whispers, gradually 

surrounding the house ...

Man in Café

You can see

in his pose

how much he enjoys

that mug of coffee

at his lips:

the raised elbow,

the head tipped slightly back,

the rapt look.

Then, with what
diligent focus

he peels and eats

bite by bite

the long banana.

The strips of skin fall dangling

from its slender curve

becoming stump.

His gaze is focused, 

calmly intent. 

But underneath 

the straight-legged chair 

his sneakered feet 

are kicking up

in a tiny, involuntary 

joy-dance.


Based on a series of photos by John Palcewski.

I Open the Door

I open the door

on a cool, clear 

Autumn morning.

A chorus of birds

rises over the hill.

From Both Sides Now

My back yard is clear and sunny, even if a little chilly this autumn morning. I open my front door and there’s dense grey fog to the rooftops on the other side of the street; behind them nothing, everything gone.

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When all's said and done, it is calming to be able to stand in one's back yard, surrounded by trees, on a mild night, under the full moon (not quite obscured by cloud), pour a libation to Nature, perform a simple ritual and say some prayers.


(I looked at this next morning — this morning — and realised it could be a small stone too.)