Sunset Walk

Every four-year-old child understands that the world is alive, intelligent, aware, communicative and filled with soul. ~ Stephen Buhner

She spies us from her hilltop

and screams since her parents insist

she ask first.  Running heart-first,

she stops and pivots in visible

frustration, torn between her cell-

deep celebration and the civilizing

influence.  We are pacing mindfully

aware that 14 times 7 equals 98

in human years but already

in that connected space that wags

tails and beams across faces.

Relief as the hidden is revealed,

our generous gifts emerging even

before our exuberant meeting.  A spray

of water from a wet fur coat

is greeted with a delighted squeal

and we regard each other 

with such spaciousness.  True

availability in this present moment.

Shaky cartwheels and petting,

eyes meeting and secrets shared:

the candour of the innocent,

the eloquence of the child.

Revitalized, we walk away, standing tall.

Waving every few steps to the goodbyes

so extravagantly bestowed.

The strong four-year-old heart,

pure, emanating power.  We are all

radiating abundance and she races

across her lawn for one final

touch across the so-called space

that divides us.  And I pet my

wagging companion, embraced

by my own wide and spreading smile

as we head into the last

vivid flames of sunset.

 

Inspired by: Hidden, Candor, Eloquence 

Group Mind

I have been tuning in to the movement

of the beings around me and this city

has demolished nature to build

highrises surrounded by drainage

ditches and run-off ponds, where geese

hatch their eggs and waddle along

the heated tarmacadam. There are loops

and circles of interstate highways

that devastated neighborhoods and the sounds

of 18 wheelers and motorcycles

ambulances and cars jar

at all hours of the day. From the air

it all looks green. The descendants of the forests

have tried to stay present, stretching their branches

to form tree canopies over the endless roads

unless they are stunted and twisted

by the linemen protecting the electrical wires.

Even where I live, by a pond created

when they dug for the highway

and liberated a freshwater spring,

the noise never fades to the background,

an unsettling percussion punctuated

by honks or sirens, squeals and clatters.

We do what we can, the mother

and her fawn cautious on the drive,

the great blue heron patient to a certain

point, then scolding and chasing

away his brother. One bird at a time.

The corvids caw the alert, hummingbirds

squabble over the feeder, and the goldfinches

warn and dive to protect their thistle

from each other.  I lock the doors when I leave.

We have all been kicked out of the garden,

and we grab what we can, anxious

as the constant chaos of traffic

reminds us to take

care, beware, dividing

our hearts from the true experience

of loving unity that we simply

cannot see or feel

with all of this racket

going on.  But let me tell you, father,

today my tender heart is full of you.

Inspired by The Daily Word Prompt: City

Surf’s Up

You want so desperately,

not clear that to want

means to be needy

or destitute, to experience the lack.

You are poised and aimed

in the exact opposite direction

of the images on your vision board.

Do you think I am a magician

with tricks up my sleeve?

When I pull off the obscuring

veils — with a flourish, I admit —

you stare in disbelief.

The responsive universe

is aching to vibrate

to the ringing sound

of your intention.

Stand in the place

where you don’t know

what you don’t know,

the place where impossibility

lives, where your heart swims

in the river of true love.

Let your voice echo

as you proudly proclaim

what you know can never happen,

given the facts as you see them

right here, right now.

Say:  I am.  I have.  I do.

This is how we manifest.

Declare and then release.

And open yourself for the incoming

tide.  Wax your surfboard

for the wild ride ahead.

Inspired by The Daily Word Prompt: sleeve

You Think This Happens Every Day?

He’s two today and he can call

my name, Bibi, with all his heart.

We talk on the phone.

I’m singing to him and honking

and quacking, cawing,

even scolding like a great blue heron.

He’s singing them right back 

to me, and I can feel

the fire in our hearts ignite.

He breaks into a rush of

tumbled words and nonwords,

a story he wants me to know

and though it cannot be translated

word for word, these disembodied

electrical signals transmitted as

radio waves and converted back into sound

are soul speak: I understand.

We are celebrating each other

as if centuries had divided us

up until these perfect moments

of pure connection.

I hear his mother say,

“Tell your grandma bye-bye” 

and instead he yells,

“Hi, hi!  Bibi!  Hi, hi!”

And so we laugh and explore

until we finally

say farewell with joy

bursting from our cells,

all the deep places where

we treasure true love.

Inspired by The Daily Word Prompt: rush