When Sinking, Dive

Over forty years

ago, in a dream I was

too young to really

understand, I was very

old and found I must

descend deep into a vast

expanse of water.

 Uncoerced but reluctant,

I began moving

down through water that became

more clear the deeper

down I went. I did not go

 alone. A man with

a staff went with me. There came

a point when I knew

I had gone as deep as I

 had to go and we,

the man and I, made our way

back to the surface.

 When our heads broke the water,

 he vanished and I

was stunned by the play of light.

Now, older than I

was in that long ago dream,

I begin to understand.

                                                                                JDG

And Then?

The only green on that bare tree

has wrapped itself

around its trunk

and begun its

slow climb to the top. What happens

when it’s gone as

far as it can

go? Does it turn

around and begin a slow descent,

passing itself

on its way down

to solid ground?

                                                            JDG

Each A Pearl

“You’re such a romantic,” they said.

“For you every

turkey-vulture

is a red-tailed

hawk, every crow a raven,” but

victory was mine

when overhead,

in a nearby

tree, sun shimmered red on a large

bird’s tail, “Yes,”

I said, “and each

grandkid, a pearl.”

                                                     JDG

Nothing Grey

Right at the end of day, the sun

broke through and for

a moment all

shone in golden

light. Our hearts lightened as our eyes

turned to the sky

in gratitude.

It is good to

move toward night with a memory

of golden light,

to know nothing

grey can stay.

                                                   JDG

When There’s No Way Back

In the darkest of dark times, when

we’re lost and there’s

no way back to

what was before,

we huddle together in grief’s

cold cave finding

a little warmth,

a bit of light

in remembering, in putting

back together

with stories what

was once alive.

                                                 JDG

In The Dark Of Early Morning

In the dark of early morning, before

kids, dogs, and cats

begin to

stir, I

sit,

soak

myself

in silence,

then, turning, write

myself into the start of this new day.

                                                                                                    JDG

On Not Looking Away

When my put-upon

self came knocking today, I

didn’t munch a bunch

of cookies and look away.

I opened the door,

invited her in. We sat

together and sipped some tea,

and though we spoke no

words, it was enough to just

  sip some tea and simply be.

                                                                JDG

Strange Dreams

Strange dreams of riding

in cars rolling backward or

in cars flowing with 

the traffic, but traveling

in reverse. Drivers

don’t see a problem. One shows

me my perception

is wrong; the other is not

worried even though

the ignition keeps shutting

off. I grow anxious.

Is the problem with me, with

  them, or with the cars?

What do I do when I lack

 power and control,

when I roll back to those young

days when I first came to be?

                                                                                           JDG

Thus The Day Begins

The pale blue veil of mist drops down,

connecting pond

and sky. The trees,

some newly bare,

some ever-green, stand enfolded

in a gentle

rain. A fire

glows soft within.

On my lap a golden cat purrs.

When I shift, she

stretches, miffed. Thus

the day begins.

                                                              JDG

Zigzag Blues

Someday I’ll come to

rest between too little and

too much, neither

understating and over-

doing or over-

stating and underdoing.

Til then I’ll zigzag along.

                                                             JDG