Of a Moment, Outdoors
The startled bark
And raised neck hair
Of my dog upon
Meeting a mushroom
Un-before seen
In the middle of
His accustomed path.
A broad-tailed hawk
Spiraling sunward,
Riding a thermal updraft—
Days later a raven
Rising in the same.
A tiny intrepid spider
Parasailing across my yard
On a thin silken thread.
Multiple popcorn
Gray and yellow bursts
Of whirling burrowing bees
Emerging from underground.
The summer yellow petal fall
Of a golden raintree,
Falling and fallen silent,
Like the onset of snow.
The Apple Blossom Pool
On the placid,
limpid
apple blossom pool
water striders
skate and skip
in hunt
among white petals
fallen,
floating
gently adrift.
A gust of wind,
quickening,
fills the air
and dimpled pool
again
with speckling
sails of light.
Startled waterside
a band,
a bursting
multiplicity
of small blue
butterflies
scatter,
swirling,
“winking
and blinking”,
in periwinkle petaled
flight.
The Sudden Robin
The sudden robin
And following, falling,
Meadowlark lilt sound,
Resound, echoing and cascading
With and in my meandering heart,
With the selfsame pastel startlement
Of lupine and yarrow and wild rock rose
Bursting unbidden, source unseen,
Through the evening light watercolor
Wash of grays and blues settling
Suffused in soft concert cast across
The many mottled greens
Of this wondered
And wandering world.
taking time
taking time to see,
to clearly see, the tan
curling, swirling
stance and dance
of sunlit, windblown
winter grass
taking time to hear,
to note the chorus,
the lilt and line
of winds passing overhead
through a long-needled,
red-barked, ponderosa pine
taking time to read,
to carefully read the tangled
fractal calligraphy
of countless, leafless,
living branch and tree
taking time to let seep
deep within
the sweet fragrance,
the shadow and light,
this lasting breath
of earth and life
and taking time to never
let pass by unseen
the silvered gleam
of lingering ice
in a trickling, dancing,
softly singing stream
Waiting for Cranes
For Tom Mangelsen
Waiting for cranes
In a cramped camera blind
We recorded the Platte River sounds,
Rippling water and the long evening songs
Of seeming countless unseen birds, focused
And scattered voices overlapping, counter-pointed, turning
Undirected vocal baroque tapestry, orchestral calliope,
Cacophonous, melodious, anonymous, stippled
Painting, water-falling poetry, holy offering,
The longing lilt of Spring, freely cast into
The ending day, into the coming night,
At once random and one,
Distant and near,
Song and ear
As one,
Enclosed
And clear.
That evening the cranes never came
Yet we tumbled forth, forever filled.
Small Town Night
From that long ago distance
Of my small town sheltered youth
I remember still so clearly seeing,
On one deep blue starlit night,
Framed and cross-veined by then
Stark and leafless trees, lines
Like thin rivers reaching
Star bound Orion caught,
Cast and held, beheld poised
Mid stride and moving timeless
Above my sleeping, tree-lined street
And how alive then seemed
All the skies on that clear
And youthful dreaming
Distant small town night.
Lost Creek
The rich dry falling, curled
Walnut brown parachute
Sails of sycamore leaves
Zigzag down, falling,
Floating then stately down
The layered, limestone-lined,
Gentle celadon stream,
The early Fall afternoon
Earth, air, and light etched
And embossed, back lit,
Gilded and butterfly splined
With dappled leaves,
Tall yellow blooms,
And black dragonflies.
Sage Ecology
Delicate gilia
And brusque paint brush
Scattered scarlet and orange
With the pink and blue pastels
Of chiming bells, crane’s bills,
Lupine, and penstemon
In bloom among the pungent,
Black-branched, jade green sage
Lure in, darting, the quick-tongued,
Needlepoint, petal-tickling,
Probing, stirring whirl and blur
Of broad-tailed hummingbirds,
With wingtips whistling,
Weaving briskly rhythmic
And trilling metallic green
Through the rich sweet nectars
And colors of a mystic land.
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