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This is my wish for you
Comfort on difficult days
Rainbows to follow the clouds
Laughter to kiss your lips
Sunsets to warm your heart
Hugs when spirits sag
Beauty for your eyes to see
Friendships to brighten your being
Faith so that you can believe
Confidence for when you doubt
Courage to know yourself
Patience to accept the truth
Love to complete your life
[
Author unknown.
Attributed to Ralph Waldo Emerson, but not written in his style.
Attributed to Theodore Roethke, but no citation.
]
Alsea. Thimbleberry. Bumblebee glee.
Alsea. Salmon run free. Yellowjackets
will eat. Under a tree. Only rock, water,
and me. In, melody. Sing along with
Alsea. Dewy and green. Summer's sheer sheen
Alsea. Dirty and clean. Spiritual seeds
to glean. Quiet wilding. Capricious as
a dream. Peace the plea. Sing along with
(2003)
Middle Coquille she knew me well before when i could speak.
Along her side the children hide and play them find and seek.
On their way to grandparent's house they stop to dip their toes.
Around boulders in fairyland the river of time she flows.
Once spanned her girth a footbridge where now noone recalls nor knows.
Remembered Earth a deeper truth, the strength of the soft and weak.
Pay mine respects to the beautiful neck of the woods near old bear creek.
Land of cedar, myrtle, and madrone.
Neither far there nor near to my home.
Land of lamprey and lizards on stone.
To these places my heart goes alone.
(2019)
Snow blanketed fields, 'round an unkept barn
The largest oak stands near, with mistletoe vices
From the branches hang moss encrusted with ice
And a hungry owl perches silently, listening
Long ago food was grown here, when things were different
See the run down orchard, pruned by hungry elk
This land is vital, but no longer supports folks
Why did they leave behind this fertile land?
Sometimes when I am not busy with my work, I think
And when thoughts run thin, I remember all my foolishness
My heart is wise enough see it as such
But I really don't care all that much
I sigh, and watch my pale breath rise
The empty fields are peaceful, the snow flakes are company
Life is so strong, I am only a blind rider
I take more comfort in silence than in wise words of the dead
I did not hear her leave her solitary watch
She floated above the surface of the snow, like a spectre
Like death she surprised her prey, talons reaching through the snow
Then we both headed back home to warm our souls
(1994)
A weed,
The neglected one,
The one people always pluck out of their life.
Nobody listens to you,
The ugly duck,
Although you hold much wonder within.
As the sunshine paints your petals,
You tell people of the true meaning of beauty,
And forgiveness.
You teach people,
How to recognize pure imagination.
So when people listen to your cries,
When you do get your way,
Your glorious mane of gold,
Trails off into the wind,
Like an old raspy voice,
Whispering his last word,
"Goodbye."
Even of the present time,
Now,
If the swords of Time should speak--
They speak if we would but listen,
With quiet strength of spears they say,
"This being little at home
Is the deathing
Of many world hopes
And the snuffing out
Of many lights
On the altar of Beauty!"
"This being little at home
Makes a great difference in Heaven,"
Said the Demure Little Violet,
Who blooms by God's throne.
"Daily to the gates there come
Many little hands knocking.
When Saint Peter says, 'Who comes?'
They answer:
'We are the Joys come back from earth
To the Garden--
There is no room for us
Because of their being
So little at home.'
And so Heaven is overcrowded
With these Children of Joy
And Peace of Mind;
For they have grown in number
As was God's plan
With the growing in number of Man.
And now God has had to set apart
One whole field in Heaven
For the little Courages
That he had sent to earth
--These having returned also;
Not even having found perches,
Those latter being occupied
By man's desires
For accessories
And variety."
And every morning all these children
Of Courage, Joy, and Peace of Mind
Flock to the edge of the Garden
Where they peek over the wall at earth.
To see if yet they are wanted there.
They wait with eagerness
To return."
"For they are the Little Loves
Of a Man's Soul."
Added the Demure Little Violet,
Whose sayings in Heaven
Were liked by the Dandelions
And were told by them
Wherever their seeds flew.
So the Author learned
From a Dandelion
Of the above attitude in Heaven
Towards this being little at home.
There is an owl
perched on a high branch
in my bones.
He's up all night listening
to my heart beat.
His eyes glow as he holds
onto what I feel. He's waiting
for the happiness to come.
I met a little Elf-man, once,
Down where the lilies blow.
I asked him why he was so small,
And why he didn't grow.
He slightly frowned, and with his eye
He looked me through and through.
"I'm quite as big for me," said he,
"As you are big for you."
[Translation]
I see, I see the big mountains.
I see, I see the long mountains.
I see, I see the corries.
I see the steep hills under mist.
I see quickly the place of my birth,
Welcoming me in the language I understand,
I will receive a welcome and love when I get there,
That I wouldn't trade for tons of gold.
Oh my love, my love don't cry.
I'm with you, here inside,
And i love you, i'm with you all the way.
Oh my love, close your eyes.
Rest a while, realize,
You are so very loved, all of the time.
Chorus:
I hold you here in my heart.
It's vast as an ocean.
Sleeping child don't dream we're apart.
Dream your eyes are open.
Open your eyes.
Precious one, everyone.
You're not alone, you're not forgotten.
You're coming home. Rest into yourself.
You are the one i'm waiting for.
Patiently, i'll wait outside your door.
And when you're ready, open and be free.
Chorus
No more pain, no more tears.
Come to me with your fears.
And give them up, surrender into love.
Remember who you really are.
You're vaster than a million stars.
You're everything you could ever want to be.
Chorus
On the dark cliff hundreds of weeds are withering
And yet the orchid bounds with vigor
The noble person dwells in steep, isolated places
He is indeed different from normal people
Beauty never stops.
A profusion of color;
multitudes of form.
This hue resonates.
Grasses, moss, evergreens, felt
deeply in the heart.
If you breathe in all
the colors of this earth, you'll
become a rainbow.
My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So is it now I am a man;
So be it when I shall grow old,
Or let me die!
The Child is father of the Man;
And I could wish my days to be
Bound each to each by natural piety.
Cliffs that rise a thousand feet
Without a break,
Lake that stretches a hundred miles
Without a wave,
Sands that are white through all the year,
Without a stain,
Pine-tree woods, winter and summer
Ever-green,
Streams that for ever flow and flow
Without a pause,
Trees that for twenty thousand years
Your vows have kept,
You have suddenly healed the pain of a traveller's heart,
And moved their brush to write a new song.
Cicadas buzz like electric substation
The road and its mirrors are otherwise silent
Melting the phone-pole's jet perspiration
The manzanitas cast an oily-earth scent
Even lizards seek rock and scrub oak
I may as well heed their prime wisdom
I swallow to comfort my dried-out throat
In dry grass, pondering blue macrocosm
Resting my head under sparse leaved boughs
My lethargy bakes into full fledged nap
Not before God itself whispers, I drowse,
"Well done, I intended you just where you're at"
(2003)
When everything has faded, they alone shine forth,
Dominating the garden with beauty unsurpassed;
In clear and shallow water sparse branches loom,
Floating in moonlit air with delicate fragrance;
Eager are the winter birds who come to look,
Butterflies would faint if they but knew;
To enjoy such beauty writing these few lines I have luck,
Want of wine and song these blooms supplant.
Shining persons arrive here
Open your being
In every small thought of what to fix
In every immense thought of dancers winding through the Milky Way
What obscures, falls away
There once was a young man who said, "Though
It seems that I know that I know,
What I would like to see,
Is the 'I' that knows 'me'
When I know that I know that I know."
In this secluded shrine,
O miracle of grace,
No mortal eye but mine
Hath looked upon thy face.
No shadow but mine own
Hath screened thee from the sight
Of Heaven, whose love alone
Hath led me to thy light.
Whereof--as shade to shade
Is wedded in the sun--
A moment's glance hath made
Our souls forever one.
What though thy bed be frozen earth,
Thy cloak the chilling blast;
What though no mate to cheer thy path,
Thy sky with gloom o'ercast;
What though if love itself doth fail,
Thy fragrance strewed in vain;
What though if bad o'er good prevail,
And vice o'er virtue reign:--
Change not thy nature, gentle bloom
Thou violet, sweet and pure,
But ever pour thy sweet perfume
Unasked, unstinted, sure!
Who but a child would wander into the night
Against the sensible advice of those much older,
Whose silent shadows cut the moon's thin light
And only maples lean to touch the shoulder?
What do they hope to find, what fever stirs
Their blood and guides their feet to walk alone?
They will return, the sweater stuck with burrs
And in the hand a useless, shapeless stone,
But something in their face, secret, withdrawn
Will go with them upstairs, and to their sleep.
They are as furtive now as a young wild fawn:
Their eyes are darker now, and large and deep.
Who but a child can find such subtle magic
In the world the elders find so grave, so tragic?
People travel to wonder at the height of mountains,
at the huge waves of the sea,
at the long courses of rivers,
at the vast compass of the ocean,
at the circular motion of the stars;
And they pass by themselves without wondering.
The things that one grows tired of--O, be sure
They are only foolish artificial things!
Can a bird ever tire of having wings?
And I, so long as life and sense endure,
(Or brief be they!) shall nevermore inure
My heart to the recurrence of the springs,
Of gray dawns, the gracious evenings,
The infinite wheeling stars. A wonder pure
Must ever well within me to behold
Venus decline; or great Orion, whose belt
Is studded with three nails of burning gold,
Ascend the winter heaven. Who never felt
This wondering joy may yet be good or great:
But envy him not: he is not fortunate.