wind stills, an unusual calm settles
geese fly so low, the whir of wings floats earthward
two hoot owls call, haunting echoes in the canyon
cerise, vermillion, amber encompass the land
a chill creeps slowly through ancient junipers
beauty
Gratitude
Thanksgiving brings so many thoughts, including thoughts about the divisive political discourse in the country now. However, it seems more productive and in keeping with the day to focus on gratitude. As I write this I think of both personal and broader things for which I am grateful, one of which is that I live in a country where divisive political discourse can actually and legally occur. Now to the more personal (even though I think the personal is political, I will not focus on that)–here is my starter list:
-my family–daugher, son, and grandson; daughter and grandson will join me shortly to prepare a traditional Thanksgiving dinner.
-my mother’s pumpkin pie recipe which my grandson will help me prepare when he arrives; he says it is the only pumpkin pie he really likes.
-my job which I truly love–teaching public high school; my students frequently make my day.
-where I live in beauty truly on the Rim of Wonder.
-my health
-my friends
-my ability to travel to all sorts of fascinating places
-a life I love
Gifts–Isabella and Roses
For the last month DJ Knopick-Barrett, the Production Manager for Amarillo Opera, has stayed with me–her third time to do so. When she was last here, in early summer, she took hikes with my dog Isabella. I had no idea she had also photographed her. Isabella died not long before DJ arrived this time.
DJ said her goodbyes this morning and I left for work. She had a late morning flight. When I returned home from work today, I was touched nearly to the point of tears. DJ not only had photographed Isabella, she had enlarged the photo and framed it.
Reflections
Doors open, wind whispers
Cottonball clouds drift in pale blue
Reflections on early autumn afternoons
Beauty is Whatever Gives Joy
When negative sights overwhelm, look at the flowers–sharing this beauty from a blogging friend.
Summer Day
j
sunrise over canyon wall
shimmering heat of a summer day
sun sinking behind cedars
The Gift
On the wall for forty years,
a copy of some famous painting.
Almost everything a strange dark
shade of blue, a blue not quite
blue, the merest hint of green:
antique cupboard, curved table
base, ladder back chair, window
frame, even the tree outside.
The only exceptions:
white table cloth,
newspaper in the lady’s hands,
her pale pink floral dress with tiny
darker pink flowers,
large copper antique teapot
in the cupboard, the black and copper
pots on top. Her teacup, saucer, plate
of toast, white and blue, an old Danish pattern.
I’ve kept this gift,
hung on too many walls to count.
My college roommate, the giver, said,
“This reminds me of you.”
I look at it; all these years
have wondered why.
We’re still friends.
I’ve never asked.
Canyon in Winter
Winter stillness lies over the canyon:
a blanket of white cold.
Windless, a rarity in West Texas.
Three colors:
green juniper
adobe rocks
crystalline snow.
Suddenly,
I see reddish brown rock,
cat shaped,
large,
outlined against the snow.
I wait,
I watch.
It moves,
dashes up an arroyo,
disappears.
Bobcat?
Puma?
The Encounter Poems
Throughout my life, I seem to experience what I call encounters: meeting people I never saw before and having some type of connection with them. Various things occur under these circumstances. Sometimes I keep in contact for at least a while with these people and sometimes not. This week I am going to post several of these poems. Here is the first one.
In Line at a Fast Food Restaurant
Caramel eyes
glowing in a brown face
Panama hat
Intricately carved silver cross
Crisp, snowy linen shirt
No collar
Slacks loose.
He’s lost weight.
I think,
“Gorgeous brown man.”
He says,
“In case no one has told you lately,
you’re gorgeous!”
He walks off to meet
the pregnant woman in the corner.
Women-2
Why
and
What
draws me
to witches
herbal secrets
moonlight
ancient ruins
archaic codes.
It is the goddess blood I carry,
remembrance of a past
when women ruled
when peace reigned
and
All were healed.
writingontherim 