I’ve been watching trees blowing in the wind

 

I’ve been watching trees blowing in the wind:

branches gallantly waving, leaves dancing, 

a rushing breeze buffets each bushy crown.

Inside, I cannot hear a single sound.

 

Sunlight highlights the wavering branches

spray painting the verdant chaos of greens

making a happy choreography

no music, no words, a deaf tranquility,

 

This jazzy ballet - so mesmerizing -

has been accompanying me all day

inside, thinking thoughts in disarray

outside, nature delightfully in affray. 

 

A companion of sorts, this busy view 

outside of harried leaves

inside my head it pleases me

to see them all waving happily.

 

S. Olivier

Menlo Park

June 19, 2023

Edited June 26, 2025

At the Gallery Clothesline Art Show

 

Woolen mittens flying everywhere

the best showing of the afternoon

well played, I thought, 

as the wind waved them off

 

Wind buffeted the tent booths;

their wares inside giddy with surprise

their vendors smiling, ever buoyant,.

 

strolling between the rows of white tents 

I bought nothing that day --

but flying mittens made me happy.

 

S. Olivier

09/08/24 

Exiting the pandemic

As far as I am aware, I never had COVID

although it’s ever-present like a haunting

perhaps using some of the air in my lungs.

 

I live in a bubble now -- is that how aging works? --

all your life you focus on work, family, and friends

making connections, and then they slowly evolve

 

into something unrecognizable, something untether-able.

Weightless in a space module is now how my life is spent

puttering and bouncing from here to there. 

 

I lost 2 years while ensconced away from humanity

meanwhile the old connections withered, so

I am much at sea, at a loss, even adrift at times

 

I was in pronounced denial, but am only weary now --

not for want of trying – to sustain the memories of the past, 

yet not live there, but where?

 

Oh, Ye Donkey

(Reflections on a visit to the Donkey Sanctuary in Hopland, Ca  2023)

 

Oh, ye donkey

Oh, ye donkey ears

Oh, ye donkey hair

Oh, ye donkey eyes —

those eyes!

 

Grace to the manchild who leadeth us 

beside the still, dry creeks

and lay down in the pastures

beside the donkeys.

 

Witness to the lovely awakening  

to the gentleness of these 

servant beasts and to 

their power to change lives.

 

We were comforted and 

feared no evil. We reveled 

that day in donkey-ness.

In those soft donkey ears.

 

And, oh, those donkey eyes —

those eyes!

Observations of experiencing an atmospheric river

 Observations of experiencing an atmospheric river A

 

The California hills a preposterous green,

the clouds nefariously white,             

the leafless oak trees desperately etch the sky 

and the windshield covered in tiny diamonds

left from yesterdays’ rain --

having decamped a power outage

I drive home.

 

 

Observations of experiencing an atmospheric river B

 

The California hills a preposterous green,

            (as they never are)

the clouds nefariously white,

            (as when full of more water to come) 

the leafless oak trees desperately etch the sky

            (as those scrubby trees do)

and the windshield covered in tiny diamonds

left from yesterdays’ rain --

            (grabbing sunlight as they can)

having decamped a power outage

I drive home.

 

S. Olivier

Jan 12, 2023

 Sad little patio on a bleak day.

Miss Christmas Tree 2022

 Miss Christmas Tree 2022 (& 2020 & 2021)

 

There is tree outdoors in a pot --

a big deep pot on a patio,

standing bravely in a spot

in a rainy December.

 

X marks the spot where outdoor tree

stood tall, dressed in bells, 

trimmed in white lights

and frippery of red and green.

 

Outdoor tree patiently waits all day –

to glow at dusk into night,

keeping watch, providing 

unexpected protection and delight.

 

Through the window she blessed me,

worth all the effort to dress her up

paying me back in constancy 

and remembered fantasy.

 

Never passing judgement

all the while witnessing 

the shenanigans of my daily life.

Miss Christmas Tree glowed quietly through th' night.

 

 

Monday, January 2, 2023

13th month of 2020

She said, “The year has flown by.”

My son-in-law said, “Sometimes it feels that way.”

I thought, “What year was she living in?”

 

This year has lasted half my life.

This year has nearly stolen my sanity,

I can’t even remember the year before this one --

or the one before that, or the one before that –

it was so long ago. 

 

Every day is Groundhog Day.

I too, see my shadow day after day.

It shortens the view of my larger world

and lengthens my fears at night.

 

Let’s be honest, this year was soul crushing,

heart breaking, body debilitating.

And that’s just those of us still alive.

 

My days are constructs of pretense.

 

June, I fantasized, I was on sabbatical 

exploring how to be creative, to solve problems, 

to express thoughts to others.

 

November, I conjured myself a cabin in the woods 

trapped by a snowstorm of indeterminate length,

imagining warmth, baking muffins, making soup.

 

Month 13, I now assume I’m under house arrest 

by an unknown benevolent master

for being insolent, or naughty.

 

Let’s be honest, this year is soul crushing --

we are living with all the symptoms of depression by default.

And that’s just those of us who are terribly, terribly fortunate.        

 

January 18, 2021

S. Olivier

The book

It’s tiny, the book, about an inch square

and you made it with your tiny 

four-year-old hands.

 

So engrossed 

and confident 

and pleased with yourself.

 

It had a story and pictures.

You just smile 

sort of remembering.

 

You‘ve seen it,

but perhaps you do not 

remember making it.

 

That’s all I remember --

You – making it

I … still have it.

 

 

Poetry Workshop Jen Siraganian

Monday, June 27, 2022

 

Isla

 

I cannot tell you how magnificent

a small hand reaching up to you --

a small hand saying come with me -- is.

It just is… so wonderful. 

 

Did you know that, when Isla says 

Daizee or Paw Pawtwol, it’s music?

Well, it is…

It might as well be an angel singing.

Lake Tahoe

Feb 26, 2022

Carrying Duplos upstairs in South Lake Tahoe

 

My hand, one side and his hand, other side 

we lift the box together up the stairs;

one step, then the box, one step, then the box

I say, we should use magic or the lightsaber

to carry this box.

He says, no, we can do this… 

magic is for when we can’t do something.

 

I say, I need to write this down. You are so smart.

Love this kiddo.

Lake Tahoe

Feb 26, 2022

Trips to Goodwill

 

I traded in my life

It was like scheduling 

a knee replacement.

It had to be done

and what a difference!

 

I gave my it away, bit by bit

and box by box --

in possessions, collections

of stuff that called to me, 

or things that marked me. 

 

Each month I head off 

with something to drop off --

things to send off or write off.

If I buy a shirt, I give a sweater

without regret – I am practiced

 

I could not haul them around anymore --

these signatures of moments that are gone

and are not part of today;

I traded these myriad of things

for my life in the present.

Time slowed and now again flies

We have begun another day,

another week, another month.

As January rolled in blind

and February’s leap strayed

backwards into one long wretch’d March, 

we adjusted ourselves to May.

At once finding a keel and wind,

to sally forth into unknowns --

we reveled or rebelled or hid

having learned lessons of some sort.

Now sweet June is upon us

in all her tipsy gay glory.

“Gather ye rosebuds while ye may.”

A second wave will come ashore or carry us away. 

Corona Corona

1

It is surprising how stressful nothing is.

For one thing, being told to do nothing

and go nowhere, gives me permission 

to do even less.

I no longer need to push myself

to be active and productive.

2

Why is this not a staycation?

Because, I can’t run to Lowe’s

or the art store 

for project supplies;

because, will I need this money

for food in 6 months?

3

The onslaught of useful information

Is very, very scary; the onslaught 

of non-useful information

is exhausting -- I need to unscrew my head

and dump the crazies out then somehow – 

screw it back on … to start again.

4

Apparently, the denial of the outdoors

becomes directly proportional 

to the desperate need

to be outdoors.

Corona, please let us run out of doors!

Run free, hug everyone. 

5

Ah, Corona, corona, 

somehow by separating us

you have brought us together --

however, I will need my better angel-self

to dig deeper for courage 

in this time of powerlessness.

Dec 12/31/19 --> 01/01/20

Hello world … you merry-go-round

Hello world … you merry-go-round

(What have you got for me?)

The old year is bulldozed away-- 

good riddance --

and the new one rings in 

like a vaudeville curtain call.

I couldn’t keep up anyway.

I like the old ways too. Like you --

like consideration and caring 

and cozy blankets. 

You know, like when there is a class act

in the poor and dignified as well as 

in the privileged who sacrifice

anonymously and with grace. 

Let the winter skies stay awhile

hovering overhead and directing 

our gazes closer to where

we see each other, really see 

ourselves in each other.

December 31, 2019     

Needful panacea

Those precious tiny moments:

where the heart skips a beat,

& breath is caught up short…

Why can't there be more -- 

… strung closer together 

            to make all this 

            bearable?

A walk in the park (Snakebite)

Every independent action takes effort;

even a walk in the park takes initiative --

seems harmless enough, even restorative --

leaves & trees & filtered sunlight,

the smell of earthiness, ever so slight;

snippets of bright water sparkle below

my gaited steps alight a crooked path

and then, the lightening strike 

of the piercing pain of the snake bite

Now the real courage begins.

close to life – it is visible ahead --

yet surrounded by bewildering acres of wilderness

one thought in repetition – take action

no need to restore, no need to plan,

no need to drift, no need to notice

climb the hill, call the number, stay alert.

I didn’t know the snake bite would 

rob me of all the courage 

I had stored in a precious little box 

in my soul.

I didn’t know the snakebite would 

break my heart into little droplets 

of dissolved whimpers.

I didn’t know the snake bite would 

fill the core of my being with poison.

I didn’t know the physical challenge 

would be nothing compared to

marshaling my life back into existence.

November 27, 2019

Disseminating me

If you found my phone

would it tell you all 

about me?

Would my pictures of

stuff I see tell you 

about me?

Would my message threads

show the real truth of

who I am?

Would all my contacts

tell you about 

my values?

If I delete Facebook,

Instagram, Twitter 

and Pinterest –-

am I here?

I’ve grown to know me

nowrather well, now

that I’m me.

I am here watching,

thinking, learning all

about me:

what I value most,

how I ground myself,

how I gauge the world,

new – old things,

all over again.

It’s tough swimming

upstream with this bale

of principles 

and facts --  

but I am me

and I must.

AGATHA CHRISTIE & the eleven missing days

“In my  experience, obsession is like getting caught in no man’s land.

You’d get out if you could, but you don’t know where the bullets are coming from.

You’re better off sitting in a shell hole covering your ears.

You never know, you might get lucky.”

Trapped by our outer obsessions is overall satisfying: the goal is met.

It’s the inner obsessions that cause all the trouble.

I just observed my doppelganger in a past life in this coffee shop.

Right away the denim overalls, teal t-shirt 

& moss canvas Maryjanes caught my eye.   Me.

However, her son – therefore not a true time traveling vision – 

at the table next to her on an iPad 

and she at her computer with her huge iPhone.

In fact the whole thing was looking a little too Pittsford chic.

So, I went back to daydreaming about why yoga studios 

never have anyone around when you need them 

and always look shabby outside.  

(Unless they are actually an upscale spa 

and in that case yoga is an afterthought.)

But then, oh then, she and son left and, in the parking lot I saw…

I saw them get into a jeep. A two door soft top jeep. 

Oh no. Way too close to home.

Except she unzipped the front window– what is that about?

A 1995 jeep?  That is so not me.

But then, oh then she went over the curb when she backed out.

I thought, get me out of here now. I need that 11 days.