Mmmmm mimosa tree--

Mmmmm mimosa tree--

so exotic, so easy to climb

and spy upon the world.

During holiday visits to Greenwood:

the parent siblings together

settling into the great room 

getting down to the real work:

the fuzzy business of reminiscing.

She ran to the mimosa tree

to carve out an imaginary house

with branching rooms

where sitting was comfortable

where listening was not voices.

The boy cousins played football—

but the mimosa tree called her—

always ready, always willing

to be whatever she imagined:

boat, barn, cave or car.

Mmmmm mimosa tree--

so exotic, so easy to climb

and dream of other worlds.

my eyes blurred with tears

the world outside obscured, no

my dirty window

(Warner inspired Haiku

our version of occupy wall street

and about as effective)

Mirel is a queen bee

Mirel is a queen bee

with a hive.

She is busy

in the messy business

of making honey.

She is both:

a worker and a queen

like all of us

21^st century bees.

She is a be-ute-ous bee

with crisp fuzzy stripes and wings--

oh my, her wings are a wonder.

They take her hithter and yon

from continent to continent.

She touches down

in her mission

to gather sweetness.

She is a power bee.

She is a liberated bee.

It is hard work

to turn all you see

into goodness.

It is hard work

to gather thoughts,

carry them for miles,

and store them up

in the proper cell.

It is hard work

honey coating

your memories...

So that you might be rich

in what matters.

A Sonnet:  Dearest Harvest Moon

Dearest Harvest Moon, full of the summer sun,

Are you saving my summer memories?

Bright days of festivals, free time, and fun;

Twelve winsome weeks creating sweet stories--

Are you savoring the special moments--

Trapped inside your golden globe in the night?

Did you see me and how my time was spent?

Oh moon, make room for all the delights.

Sharing adventures, planning escapades;

Traveling far away, returning home;

Uplifted by the summer’s serenade:

Its soft crusade of heat and light and love

So big, so bright, so comforting in flight

Dear Harvest Moon, protect my dreams tonight.

His coffee cup in the cup holder

His coffee cup in the cup holder

donut in the bag beside

NPR on the radio, green light go--

clutch in, shift, clutch out

gas in, clutch in, shift

breeze from light to light.

Bang!  Left rear swings out,

front to curb and up

360 degrees and freeze--

the week has started and

the business of re-entry

has been beached--

flying, yet wingless

with thoughts behind

and the world unfurled--

move ahead, attend

to today, avoid accidents

re-attack work--

collisions with friends and

pack the email, lunch with shoes

send the briefcase--

party with calendar and

laugh, smile, laugh, but don’t cry.

He's delighted he didn't die.

Breathe in and out, hair cut,

visit mom, say goodbye
cross the street

and he's hit by a car on Friday.

Let’s do something easy.

Let’s do something easy, God.

If you are tired of Middle Eastern zealots,

Place your hand on the back of the dog.

Here, where my hand is—

pressing her head and shoulders

down into the floor

while she shakes and quivers

during the storm.

Heal her.

Give me peace.

Let us sleep.

If you are tired of wreaking havoc

Place your hand here on my back,

press hard into my shoulders

down into my body,

while I shake and quiver

during real life.

Let’s do something easy.

Easier than this.

Pine Mountain State Park

Pineville, KY

Honeymoon Falls Trail

The world is not with us


The world is not with us at work camp.
We know not of hurricanes and earthquakes.
We know how extension cords are connected to power.
We know how the work of our hands is connected to each other.


The world is not with us at work camp.
Here in the valley. We remember now the simpler things,
The thing contentment is made of, the shade tree,
a cool drink of water, eyes that twinkle.


It is easy for some to live at work camp forever.
Easy to live without the earthquakes of others,
the hurricanes of far, far away in other green valleys--
filled with shade and water and other twinkling eyes.


We can connect our souls at work camp, if we let them.
Will we let them?

avec

je suis un peu triste

je voudrais être avec

Living with asymmetrical symmetry--

different but interconnected;

paired but linked and locked.

je suis un peu triste  

je voudrais être avec

Joined but free, how can that be?

It’s like warrior 3; when someone touches

your outstretch fingertips, a split-second tether.

je suis un peu triste  

je voudrais être avec

It’s like lunch out with friends:  grouped

together, but separate beings;

we make Venn diagrams of personalities.

je suis un peu triste  

je voudrais être avec

Close yet apart, touching hearts

like Michelangelo’s Creation of Man--

a hair’s breath brush stroke between extended hands.

I am a little sad.

I would like to be with.

Being with, sharing bread, drinking wine,

holding hands, laughing laughs, so very fine:

etant avec, pas seul--

je suis content maintenant.

Work progresses...

day off

eyes squint open

what time is it?

stretch

sigh

get up

look out window

go to bathroom

feed the dog

put on Gap pj bottoms

and shoes

walk the dog

(scoop poop)

walk back to apt

unhook collar

hang up leash

check weather for the day on TV

if after 7:00, check in with Today Show

decide if hungry

if hungry, decide what to eat

(usually cereal with pecans and choc chips)

(sometimes with bananas)

if not hungry, check email and messages

check list for the day

decide if it is time to get dressed

if it is, get dressed

if not, start item on list

(usually pack things for errands and yoga)

attack messy desk or schoolwork

watch movie while working

(sometimes in office;

sometimes in living room;

sometimes in bedroom)

work progresses this way:

start with first item on the list

for instance:  unpack box

sort into 3 piles:

trash, keep, give away

put trash things in trash

if trash is full, take to trash closet

shred paper in shredder

one page at a time

put keep things somewhere

(usually a variety of places around the apt

for instance: art to art supplies box,

books to bag for library

find bag

put by door

start a load of laundry

did I eat?

did I brush my teeth?

go back to list

pay a bill online

google search something interesting

check facebook or not

text “I love you” message to girls

get dressed

buckle up dog

grab bags for school, yoga and/or errands.

schlep to car

drive to yoga or school or errand

(does car need gas?)

check to do list

do an errand

(usually Wegs)

do another errand

go home

get mail

unhook collar

hang up leash

sort mail

(for instance: put ads in recycle bin

shred envelopes

put bills on desk

put People mag on table to take to mom)

if I did yoga, shower and change

move laundry to dryer or drying rack

pet dog

look at list

watch a lifetime movie

am I hungry?

is it 4:00

if 4:00, feed the dog

if not, pet dog and tell her to wait

walk dog

(scoop poop)

(pickup other trash in park if it will fit in bag)

go back to apt

check news on TV

look at list

see what is on USA or HGTV

read

write a poem

search for something interesting on yahoo

see what’s on TV

am I hungry?

if hungry, eat something

(usually cereal,

sometimes avocado dip and chips)

on Tuesday afternoons work at Benincasa

on Saturdays go see Tom and Mom

(sometimes yoga)

on Sundays go to church

(sometimes yoga)

change to pj’s

floss teeth

brush teeth

take vitamins, happy pill and sleeping pill

text girls “nighty night”

read until sleepy

sleep…

start over

One morning this week as I walked Miss HB for her daily constitution, I spied a sparrow.  Paused on the sidewalk his/her beak was filled with dry grasses.  The tiny thing flew low across the street to the sidewalk beyond and stopped again.  I feared it would never make it to the height of a tree. And then a automated road analyzer van passed between us. AN AUTOMATED ROAD ANALYZER VEHICLE!  Seriously? Rochester needs a special vehicle to determined which road needs to be re-surfaced?  
From the sublime to the ridiculous.  

I remember it now

I remember it now as I sit in church—this morning’s dream—born of last night’s Internet search. 

I was looking for one, which would be nearest my new home.  Should I stay Methodist, try out Episcopalian, become Catholic, be happy?

And then, there I was in a pew and it was time to rise, but I had no intention of taking communion.  Yet at the rail I am, too far to the left with cold stone under my knees, then guided to the right to cushions instead—so embarrassed.

Suddenly, I was altering a dress for a party saying, “Yes, I can fix this.”  And then passing storefronts and a hallway and Emily Michaelmas--was there in her attorney’s office and I’m still fixing that dress and taking communion at an unknown church.

And now I see I am un-dreaming here at Asbury awash in confusion between real and unreal. Actually, it all seems unreal. 

Marion S. Hancke

Kindergarten

Pitt St. Charleston SC

Kindergarten, kin-der-GAR-ten

Kindergarten, kin-der--GAR-ten,

I remember kindergarten:

The beginning of school days,

Little desks just right for me,

Walls of windows,

Books of Dick and Jane,

Fat pencils and prang crayons.

Everything was possible.

Everything was new.

And then you move on

And leave it all behind

Leave the books, the good times,

The laughter, the bright eyes

Leave the playground.

Leave your kindergarten.

In your mind it stays safe,

Constant and complete,

Waiting and intact.

Best that be so in the mind’s eye

For it may not be so if you go back.

Angel Oak and sweet grass

Slipping out from the service

my mind busy with wordless

thoughts floating with the sea breeze,

a warm hug of air greets me:

Restless, unsettled and free.

Step by step what I’ve begun,

left, right, or wrong, is soon done.

Walking slowly, seeking shade

from the live oak trees God made,

let the price be paid, come what may.

While the streets are close, the air

and narrow lots kept with care

carry waves of gardenia-

a sweet southern insignia.

Will this be my koinonia?

You are sleeping in my time zone

You are sleeping in my time zone.

It is such a lovely thought to think:

you are seeing the same sun,

the same moon

at the same time

as me.

You are sleeping in my time zone;

you are within my reach

to imagine the possibility

of seeing you smile--

smiling back

at me.

You are sleeping in my time zone--

matching minute to minute to mine.

It is comforting to know

being present yet apart,

you are tied

to me.

Three poems for my yoga mistresses 
upon graduation from the 40 Day Revolution

A Sonnet:  My yoga mistress said to seek my path

My yoga mistress said to seek my path.

My path to happiness: what can it be?

I can’t see my path, since the aftermath.

3 years past, happiness could have found me.

We were on our path, driving towards the sun.

“The last of life for which the first was made,”

was next for us; but the plan was undone.

Instead, a naughty trick on us was played.

And so we hung upon the precipice

until he was gone and I was alone.

The path, you see, went with his exodus.

I was stunned, without a clue, on my own.

So, before our life together, I turned.

To find my own true path, I must relearn.

* * *

Mary Iyengar

Mary Iyengar, can I go for?

Mary Iyengar, you are a star.

Good, good, good, you all are good.

Is it true I really could?

Now, straighten the back and flip the hip

Reach, reach, reach; lengthen tip to tip;

left lower rib meets right outer thigh.

And I am thinking: oh my!

Mary Iyengar, can I go for?

Mary Iyengar, you are a star.

Left hand down and right hand rise—

Breathe, breathe, breathe; I am alive.

Thank you, thank you, Mary Iyengar.

* * *

Call and response

Call and response:

we engage together:

in a partnership.

She asks, we give.

Her voice our guide

to the path within.

Surrounded by heat

attuned to the body,

we find the beat

Teacher and pupil;

back and forth;

give and take.

We breathe in and out.

Conducted, we strive--

all senses alive.

Suddenly, slowly

power surges up

from toe tip to crown.

Downward, then up--

inward, then out--

our hearts soar.

We follow her lead

as the light dims,

there is brightness within.

Our sensei calls to us

every Thursday night

and we respond in kind.

Created at the BOA workshop at Midtown
Duty calls

Every morning at just this hour, they appear

both fulfilling their obligations

to one another.

Traversing the sidewalk, stopping at the trees

gazing at the river, sometimes crossing the footbridge

and becoming miniatures.

In the fall they linger in the park.

breathing the brisk air, kicking the leaves,

staying till it’s almost dark

In winter they hurry

bunched against the wind

focused on the short exercise ahead.

In summer, after they pass by
they take a longer return. Two figures

tethered to each other.

It’s just spring, now, and cold.

There they are again--

She steps out first, they cross

one eyes the light for safety.

the other the grass ahead.

Duty calls.

Mar 31

Morning greeting

One crystal flake falls far apart from another.

This spring weather has weather beaten me.

Or

One crystal flake falls, far apart from another:

winter’s last eyelash kisses before spring

Good morning surprise:  you’re sick. 

Good morning!  The alarm says wakie up.

Lie there, sit up, stretch,

Crack the blinds, rise and shine

wander into the hall, feed the dog;

Wait, news flash: you’re sick.

Switch to denial, brush your teeth,

dress, stare at the dog, consider

if walking her is possible.

Wait, new awareness: 

you have to walk the dog.

Back in the apartment

now, you know you are sick.

Call the boss, outline notes for the sub.

And go back to bed.

Become unaware and sleep.

Until you realize

you need water or ginger ale, or hot tea

Damn, get up, get water and saltines.

Go back to bed. 

Forget the world and sleep.

By sunset, you have managed to avoid

voiding for most of the day.

a puzzle done, a movie watched, soup consumed

and the blinds reveal the rainy, misty day

at an end.  

40 Days to Revolution 4

We are over the top and on the downhill side of 40 days.  This week we have been asked to consider where we need to apply more self-discipline (… this at a time of life for me when I get to loosen up the discipline, live a little).  And we have been asked to consider what we need to let go, excess baggage we need leave behind.  And we have been asked to add a few minutes of meditation to the beginning and end of each day.  It seems push has come to shove and I am going to come up short this week.

Mar 31, this was our morning greeting:

One crystal flake falls far apart from another.

This spring weather has weather beaten me.

or

One crystal flake falls, far apart from another:

winter’s last eyelash kiss before spring.

40 Days to Revolution 3

This week we have been asked to reflect on Grace… and to consider how to maintain balance and equanimity in our busy lives.  I reckon it gets easier with age.  I am not sure why that is.  Less busy? No, not really.  Realization of what is actually important?  Yes, likely. 

Meanwhile, the best part of my busy week was finding time to share with my yoga revolution buddy who is a sweetie and awfully talented.  We were present with each other.  We were alive and refreshed from Mary’s Iyengar yoga.  We were blessed with Grace in our shared time together.

Final stolen thoughts:

“Grace has been defined as the outward expression of the inward harmony of the soul.”

William Hazlitt

 

40 Days to Revolution Circle of Life

 .Spirit.Joy.Relationships.Family.Home.Health.Athletics.Eating/Cooking.Education.

.Career.Finances.Creativity

40 Days to Revolution 3/20/11

Courageous moments

Have you ever stood on a cliff

on the edge of the world wondering, what if?

One step and you fall into the abyss

or you fly into a future of bliss.

I have.

I have stood on a cliff holding my best friend’s hand

when we said, “I do” and, “yes we can.”

Have you ever faced a thicket--

a wall of bushes so high stretching left and right?

The intertwined branches and leaves

making a dense tangled fence.

I have.

I have faced the thicket of unknowns holding in one hand my child’s hand

and in the other a machete to wield against the wilderness.

Have you ever been in a celestial black hole

with dark shadows closing in on your soul?

Where the tiny light is brilliant and tender

where the time is short and honored.

I have.

I have hung upon that precipice of darkness

and laid to rest half my heart.

Have you ever been blinded with half a mind?

Felt permanently puzzled and paralyzed?

Wondering how am I to improvise?

What should I do? What’s the point?

I have.

Daily, I have stood in that lonely spot and felt lost

and unprepared, and yet have persevered.

These are my courageous moments.

40 Days to Revolution 3/10/11

What is it to be living in the present?  Why do we want it?  Actually, why are we asking this question and why is it bugging me?

First, for there to be “living in the present”, there must be living in the past and living in the future.

Living in the past is reliving memories.  That can be good and bad, happy and sad.  We can learn from the past—that is good.  We can do that in the present:  analyzing a past event or action. We can’t change the past.  But we can’t stay there.  Living only in the past.  It’s only a third of life.

Living in the future is dreaming and hoping and planning.  It might be worrying.  It might be wishing.  We can do that in the present.  But we can’t live there either.  It’s only a third of life.

The third third… Living in the present.  I think the problem is that we live in the past and future half and half without enough present. We bring or allow the past and the future to dominate our thoughts in the present.  Therefore, the goal perhaps, is be aware of what is around us, when the world intrudes, but to maintain a mental distance. 

And yet there is something to be said for refection and daydreaming.  There is something to be said for “zoning out” when you are completely involved—so much so that you are lost in the present.

The Cecily Saunders

The Cecily Saunders

came to stay with us—

long before we needed her.

I think she was sort of tall,

or she seemed that way

and was actually small.

Whatever--she was big

and so important

and she was here in our house.

She dressed as you might expect:

a smiling nanny

with listening blue eyes.

This quiet little meeting

of Britain and us

set a tidal wave in motion.

Miss Saunders brought the doctors

the permission to see

a new Hippocratic Oath.

To care and yet not to care,

that was the question--

what is to become of us?

Cecily said, hold my hand;

cocktail hour is good;

and please take away the pain.

She stayed with us

at  281

like a regular person.

And then 30 years later

we came to her house:

Clifton Springs, House of John

A place of honor, no pain;

a place for cocktails,

holding hands and letting go.

Thank you, Miss Saunders.