Spring Hay

The green blades don’t try

to inhabit last year’s stalks,

pressed by wind and rain

into the earth

(though they grew high

and pioneered so much)

The green blades

ride the surge of life upward,

energy released from where it waited underground,

springing up and up to harvest sunlight

There’s no need

to cart the old stalks away —

they will decay

while new hay rises vibrant,

lush, thick, tall,

taking the field.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 3, 2015

Subtle Loveliness — Three Sketches

1.

I see the moon through mist,

I see the subtle loveliness of clouds

that move like lace across her face,

and how she laughs as they change her shape

just for a moment

2.

I think about the spread of colors, where they appear —

Red rolling into green through luxurious russets,

Golds darkening to ambers in the rich wood,

Plum, wine, umber, concentrate to near black:

It comes clear to me why pink is not a part of red

though sky and ocean share the name of blue

3.

I think of what I see as I drift towards dream,

how colors rise up out of darkness

and when, to my closed eyes, 

the light of thought appears,

defining the forms as they emerge from shifting splotches

carrying me off into the vision that reprises

all the things I didn’t know I saw.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 2, 2015

Dawn Chorus

Maybe there’s no need

to talk much

about the new awakening

Maybe it’s plenty good

to just listen

to the yawning and stretching

and the stunned silences

and the quiet gasps

and involuntary cries

Maybe we don’t need

to tell each other to awake,

for perhaps we all

are the dawn chorus.

©Wendy Mulhern

April 1, 2015

“Sink like a stone, Float like a feather”

When you’re caught in the web

and nothing makes sense

and all your moves to free yourself

just render you more tangled

You can always go within,

sink like a stone

in the gravity

of all you care about —

fall densely and deeply

into the knowing

of your essence,

the rock from whence you were hewn

When the weight of the world

holds you pinned and immobile,

inertia bearing down upon

your every motivation,

You can always reach out

and float like a feather 

in the infinite affection

that holds you so tender,

your every breath

responded to

in the sweet song of being,

crooned now so softly

for you.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 30, 2015

Clarion

Only so much time

can be spent in shock

though waves and afterwaves

of revelation

keep sending their tremors

roiling and insistent

throughout the startled landscape

of my consciousness

Only so much time

can be given

to parsing out the network

of the old lies —

How they snared us

is far less relevant

that what we need to do

and how we can,

and how we follow the imperative

to rise.

©Wendy Mulhern 

March 29, 2015

Rain in the Forecast

Strong wind from the south.

The sky has angels in it —

broad wings stretched out

against the fervent blue

bearing word of change

The water speaks of sun and cloud —

silver sparkle, metal gray,

Small children play at lake side,

my tears just out of range

The girl plays with her dad,

the boy plays alone.

They want to play together

but can’t quite make it happen

I help myself to some of their longing

while warm wind intermittently 

brings the scent of blossoms

Cormorants and gulls

sit out on pilings,

Some gulls fly low

playing knock-you-off,

Coots float in flotillas

bobbing in the waves

This day, and what will save it

fade in and out like wind and sun

taking their time

before tomorrow’s rain.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 27, 2015

Joy Rising

Joy rises like heat

from all that breathes

in the landscape of a life,

all that connects and releases,

all that takes in and gives back

It isn’t packaged in discrete parcels

to be won or bought,

doesn’t depend on reaching

designated goals

It doesn’t hold back, doesn’t wait

for anything

Joy rises like morning mist

to meet the sun,

from all that breathes,

suffusing everything.

©Wendy Mulhern

March 26, 2015