With a tiny touch of sweetness,
honeysuckle fills
the air. Down by
the pond turtles
and fish catch the scent of summer
and prepare. Each
year every scrap
the kids can find
is dangled from their fishing lines
to be snatched up
by George who’s been
caught many times.
JDG
I’m trying hard to focus on
the sea and not
the waves, the whole
and not the part,
to open heart and mind to a
broad expanse. There’s
always more than
fear or pain or
loss if I can only ease my
grip and freely
fall into the
surrounding grace.
JDG
Now that I think about it,
I was in fifth
grade before I
realized studying
for a test could improve my grade.
So, why should I
be surprised when
my granddaughter
shows similar traits? Failure to
see the obvious
lies not in the
stars. It’s in our genes.
JDG
At day’s end the sun shines through, gilding
the cloud covered
sky. All along
the road back home,
blackberries make their white promise
of sweetness yet
to come. Sometimes
that is all it
takes – a bit of light in all the
gray, a gentle
hint of juicy
times ahead.
JDG
As I sit and count all the ways
she’s been wrong and
is wrong still, an
uncomfortable
grace grips me and gives me a shake,
bringing into
view others I’ve
had this problem
with. A new possibility
is offered me.
Perhaps the one
who’s wrong is me.
***********
I want to lie down in Rumi’s
field where there are
no ideas
of wrongdoing
or rightdoing, where all there is
is a space where
I can join them
in the precious
fullness of this world and we can,
at long last, meet
and find ways back
to each other.
JDG
We took heart when we found a way
to move beyond
recrimination
and regret over
books and papers left at school.
Composing a
remembering
song, she honored
her need for creativity
and fun. We learned
to sweeten the
task with what she loves.
JDG
( With thanks to Erin Hawkins, LCSW, who had both of us list our values and design our solution from there. She explained that we are more apt to follow through and use a strategy that employs what we love. )
Three horses, tethered to a heavy
load, eyes weary
and downcast, plod
through washed out hills
of gray. Across their path a bronze
horse dashes – free.
No saddle. No
bridle. Tell me:
is there a way, as the poet says,
to move easy
in harness and
also be free?
JDG
The birds and now the bees dart in
and out among
these holly trees
now two stories
tall. They’ve provided resting space,
nesting space and
food from bloom and
berry. They hold and
nurture squirrels, birds, bees, and all
who visit them
through ever shifting
seasons of the year.
JDG
Each day at dusk, the deer gather
in our yard to
graze and debate
how best to deal
with intrusive folks and barking
dogs. After all,
this land was theirs
long before we
came, bringing with us all manner
of noise making
machines and things
that light the night.
JDG
For nearly two years now, I’ve been
writing minutes
almost daily,
reflecting on
the ordinary happenings
of my life. This
unaccustomed
discipline brings
measure to my meditation,
meter to my
poetry, and
metta to life.
JDG
