Life Size

I’d come to think of my life as small —

small circles, small desire,

small prospects, small needs,

and it felt truer, certainly, than

how I used to wave my hand, 

and utter grand plans,

and watch, with something less than confidence,

for some great wave to come along

and bear me up to what I felt

was a deserving height

I recognize that humbleness

is both the starting point

and the essential stance

for riding on the arc of being.

I notice, too, that service to infinity

does not make me small

And so, though I don’t know

what it is for, or how it will work out,

I now am willing

to enlarge my tent.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 9, 2019

Flow

The river calls its tributaries —

they are drawn to the flow —

all water follows

by virtue of what it is

Of water moved by Spirit

we are formed, we are born,

we are borne along the course prepared

Of water and of Spirit

we find ourselves

new as this breath,

steady as the presence of the infinite.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 7, 2019

Paradise

We’re building a house in paradise,

building it much more slowly

than winter peas which finally flower

despite the constant munching of them

by me and deer

We’re building paradise

with each instance of persistent care,

with our attention, our humbleness,

our patience,

and the quick moments of looking up

to notice the wonder of the day.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 6, 2019

No Future

Here I am, in this day,

in this project,

with no future to think of, beyond

it may rain this afternoon, beyond

we may get this house built sometime

Not sure of the purpose of future anyway,

with days as full as they are,

clouds coming in across the hills,

new mom turkey walking with her brood,

little nuthatch heard before sighted

flitting among the firs.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 5, 2019

Life as Tree

Nobody’s life is a straight course —

they all have their crashes,

public and private,

they all have their changes,

complete uprooting

of what they thought was true

The various chasms

may not be seen

on the paper veneer

of a life’s facade,

but we can understand

they are there

Nobody’s life is a story,

however much we’re trained

to think they are —

our lives are more like trees,

branches broken, other ones grown in,

taking every path that puts forth green.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 3, 2019

Sturdy

It is a time of sturdy growth —

bracken fern at chest, head, height,

grass still green but growing purple heads,

tender bright new needles on the firs,

daisies lifting white across the fields

We, too, are feeling sturdy,

nourished by the land, the ground,

and by the care we give.

Some roots we never knew about

are taking hold,

making us steady, stable,

here where we live.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 2, 2019

The Sacred Offering

I consider the faces of gratitude

and notice

they don’t include

a feeling of not deserving

what has been given,

though the gift is immense,

though I have longed for it

all the way down my memory

as far as I can see

When I see that I have it now,

I can’t say I shouldn’t want it,

or that I haven’t earned it,

or that I have.

Gratitude is exactly the price

for the beauty of my days.

©Wendy Mulhern

June 1, 2019