May I learn to traverse the swamps,
deserts, mountains,
and grassy plains
of life, alert
and curious, watchful for the
uniqueness and
hidden grace each
contains. May I
also come to see the forces
shaping each of
these with eyes clear,
open, and free.
JDG
All through the day, I carry and
am carried by
this season’s green
and lilting song.
My Irish soul sings right along
with quickening
heart and dancing
feet. Through days of
rain and days of sun, the greening
melody pours
forth calling me
to sing this song.
JDG
A gray morning – one lavender
wisteria
blossom hangs small
and pale among
others, large and white. A sudden
slant of sun brings
light to new green
and old, lending
an unexpected radiance
to what was cast
in gray. Nothing
changed but the light.
JDG
After a frenzy of cleaning,
my granddaughters
diagnosed me
with CDO.
“What,” I asked, “is that?” “Obsessive
Compulsiveness,”
they said, “with the
letters all in
alphabetical order, just
like we know you’d
like them to be.”
Tee-hee. Tee-hee.
JDG
Eying me from his place upon
the chair, Toby
slowly gets down
and saunters to
my side. Placing his head on my
lap, he gazes
up at me, “Are
you finally done
fussing all about ’cause as you
must know, a pat
a day keeps those
doctors away.”
JDG
They got here early, those tiny
white and yellow
butterflies and
started scouting
in the sun for food and beauty
wherever they
might find them. They,
in turn, provide
both beauty and fine nourishment
for all others
who are hungry
and happen by.
JDG
White trunk trees hold flaming torches
of living green
as sun sparks fly,
lighting up this
long road home. What will greet me there,
I do not know,
but for now it’s
good to travel
this winding path where gold flashes
through the trees and
warms all that it
finds down below.
JDG
Today a tiny bird helped me
clean. Seeing cat
hair on the rug
I’d put outside
to shake, he picked and pecked with care,
holding on to
the treasure trove
he’d found there. We
both knew that old Beetles’ song rang
true: “I get by
with a little
help from my fiends.”
JDG
That single lavender iris
stands, surveying
the garden of
which she is a
part. Noting the early arrivals
and the stragglers,
she signals her
tribe, telling them,
“It’s not what the garden can do
for you; it’s what
you can do for
the garden. Come.”
JDG
No cooperation’s coming
my way today.
Family, friends
and even the
weather insist it’s all blue skies
and sunshine, but
I want only
to sulk and whine
and nurse my gloom against a gray
and complaining
sort of sky, yet
I’m stuck with light.
JDG
aholdingplace 