Here with us

(to my mom)

You have prepared

this place of openness

so that the scent of blossoms

and the beauty

in the shapes of trees

can go right in

(not asking for permission)

just flooding you —

You light up with them

and with the quiet calls of birds

and with simple presence —

We are here

and that is good —

that is enough.

©Wendy Mulhern 

May 10, 2014

Pre-Graduation, Boston

(after a night flight from Seattle)

The day was striped with joy —

Bright reunion interspersed

with times of sinking under,

giving space 

for the wired attention of travel

to slide away

into insistent sleep,

from which we would emerge,

hands numb, groggy,

and rise again to energy,

remembering

that we are here

in this time of triumph

and coming back together

and steady family love

made sweeter

by the time apart —

Worth celebrating,

watching the competent backs

of our children,

now walking in comfortable harmony,

on their own but still connected,

solid in their new lives,

heading home.

©Wendy Mulhern

May 9, 2014

Preparing for Departure

There is a pacing

that falls shy of grace,

caught up short

on either side of waiting,

the quick skip effort

to align my step

with the gliding blocks of time

that we must mount

to reach our destination

So many back and forths

along the rushing skitter

and the pauses noticing

there’s plenty of time,

time to wait for things to charge,

time to breathe,

time we can’t apply, however,

to the final flurry

of all the things that have to happen

just before we leave.

©Wendy Mulhern

May 8, 2014

Leapfrog

I play leapfrog with the bus

down 15^th Avenue —

It stops for passengers,

I forge forward,

sometimes coasting, sometimes climbing.

It’s not my choice of game,

dwarfed, as I am,

by my opponent’s size

Somewhere along the long climb

up to 90^th,

I sense it must have turned,

leaving me to the scent of lilacs

and the quiet waving

of the backlit grass.

©Wendy Mulhern

May 7, 2014

After the Effort

OK. Breathe deep.

Sigh of release.

Back from the surge of exertion

fall

the elements of me —

falling to rest,

falling to quiet.

In a while there will be little stirs —

What has this meant?

How have I changed?

(though for now I’m less than eager

to inquire)

Maybe who I am 

is the feeling of the movement

and of the stillness,

not as a form that moved and stopped

but as the impulse

in and of itself,

as active in the stillness as the racing,

as undescribed as waves

thundering home.

©Wendy Mulhern

May 6, 2014

A Play of Day

It took all day

(a day of scurrying,

clouds rushing back and forth,

making things ready,

rain putting in the last details)

Then the curtain lifted —

blaze of gold on many brilliant greens,

creamy clouds with dark undersides

blushed slightly as they drifted

on towards evening

through the tender blue,

sending grateful glowing

into tops of trees . . . 

It was a fine production —

short play of splendid day,

just long enough

for the sun to bestow

blessings on everything.

©Wendy Mulhern

May 5, 2014

Shifting

The day moves

in the contentment of rain,

and change that rolls through

like showers on the wind,

not unpredicted, still arresting

in the subtle fresh shifts

of clouds, of air

and shafts of sun

We stand here

in this singular moment

swift as rainfall,

and move on,

still present

as the landscape changes,

never the same again.

©Wendy Mulhern

May 3, 2014