Inexplicable

sadness, like a low-hanging

fog, hovers over

the day, matching gray with gray,

restricting vision,

concealing swollen tree tips

and the slow approach of Spring.

                                                                                               JDG

Even Hemingway

found it hard, not just in large

ways  but in small, to

find grace under pressure. He

aptly called such grace

courage because it comes from

a strong and open

heart. When the stakes seem high or

time seems short, may we find grace.

                                                                                             JDG

When they descended –

those iridescent birds with

a purple cast, their

dark wings flapping, their bobbing

heads a shiny blue,

one thing I for certain knew –

it was no poet 

who gave them their name.  Common

Grackle? For such an

uncommon bird?  But I learned 

 soon enough from this

 bird-feeder bully never to

judge a bird by its feathers.

                                                                                                      JDG

Jays at the feeder –

all card-carrying members

of the old boys’ club –

occasionally allow

lesser birds to draw

near, then  huffily proclaim

they have no right to be there.

                                                                                                  JDG

The universe has

very wide sleeves and always

seems to have a card

or two hidden from view. Just

when we think the game

is ours, the universe plays

a wild card and makes hay.

                                                                                JDG

That red fox standing

on the bank above the road,

watching the cars go

by, recalled for me simple

pleasures like sitting

on the sidelines, watching, as

the game played out before me.

                                                                                                                 JDG

Watching the snow fall,

whiting out imperfection

and bringing beauty

to a harsh landscape, I find

myself wishing snow

could work its magic on my

imperfections too,

but I know that would be no

more than a lovely

cover-up. Instead, I must

continue a slow

uncovering until I

can embrace imperfect ground.

                                                                                   JDG

If you feed them, they

will come and come they surely

did. Clustered around

the bird feeder were those with 

fur, not feathers. But 

the jays soon made it clear those

with fur weren’t welcome

 here. When those interlopers 

fled, those sassy jays 

 claimed it all – land, sky, branches,

trees, bird feeders full of seed.

                                                                                                           JDG

Fifty-five minutes,

uninterrupted except

by my thoughts – what

better way to spend

this unearned coin of time than

writing a thank-you

note to the universe for

this unexpected open space.

~

Unfortunately

my note of thanks has changed to

a note of complaint.

After fifty-five minutes

of waiting in my

car and dashing off my note 

of thanks , I ‘m ready 

to roll and, yep, you guessed it,

a strange sound and no

movement. Triple A says I’ll

have seventy-five

minutes to write another

note to my friend the universe.

                                                                                                                   JDG

Sometimes the mind, like

a very focused mouse, bats

a small failure from

one corner to another

til it’s diverted 

by a more appealing prey

and begins its game

anew. When we’re the field on

which the game is played

and the weary witness too,

we look to the breath

to shift the game, the field, and

the witness’s point of view.

                                                                                             JDG