“It is not easy to live in that continuous awareness of things which alone is true living.” (Joseph Wood Krutch, The Desert Year.)
Not sunshine on ice snow brilliance
curve of bird flight
light shimmer on water.
This –
Darkness in winter’s night
lost stars in evergreen tangle.
Now –
Evidence of things seen
under incandescent light.
What was, is, will be –
glory of the given world
resplendent light of ages
tender repose of our ancestors.
Portland, Oregon – January 23, 2017
The horror in America continues today
begun in fear, ending in suffering and death
while those in power gloat
without conscience, humility
integrity, courage, or love.
What have we left but to resist
to assuage the guilt we have
that we did not do enough
to stop this madness?
Now, we have no other choice.
Portland, Oregon – January 20, 2017
Today, our country inaugurated a child-fool for President – a malicious, self-serving lying narcissist who has no concern but for himself. I believe we, our country, and the world will pay an enormous price for our folly.
Cold wind this morning. Clear sky sun bloom
snowy pretty winter scene from a recoiling past.
Now, our nations night deep freeze
in dark days shrouding the lands head
frigid days of ice hardening crevice and creek
cold pressing sharp on every thought –
suffering in street’s shabby tents and shelters
wretched poverty in mining mountains
fear haunting heartland fields and pastures
vast parking lots of America covered in the ice of anger
swept by the cold wind of vindictive and violent fear
hooded in white – hateful, ignorant, afraid.
Cold clear morning, sunlit in gilt on iced snow
stands Martin, shadow covering the land
speaking a dream in warm currents of light
healing balm of sun to shake from tall trees snow showers of ice
green once again with spring hearts of life
lift in light blind seeds of sweet mercy
to feast, all at last, on the fruit of the living land.
Portland, Oregon – January 16, 2016 – Celebration of Martin Luther King, Jr., his words, vision, and dream.
I was surrounded by trees when I was a boy –
cedars mostly and three apple trees with sad fruit.
In front, branches hanging over State street, lived two Dutch elm trees.
They had a tree disease and someone cut them down.
I knew those two trees as a boy –
squirrels racing along their branches,
birds flying about in their branches.
My father said, “they have Dutch elm disease.”
It meant nothing to me.
I came home from school one day and they were gone.
I didn’t mourn. I looked at the stumps then went on with boyhood.
Today, men came to my yard and cut down my birch trees.
They have a disease, they said, the bronze birch borer disease.
They are dying so they must be cut down –
nothing left but to make them into wildlife snags.
Bugs will live in them and birds will come to feed on the bugs.
It is painful being an adult, saying, “cut down those trees.”
“Those trees have the birch borer disease, so they must go.”
Now they are gone – the leaves gone –
the small spring green leaves, yellow autumn leaves,
the tangle of thin whippy branches.
Come on bugs and birds!
What’s left of my birch trees is all yours now –
I wait for you to come with spring after this long winter.
Portland, Oregon – January 10, 2017
Photo is my own, taken this date after the largest snowfall in Portland in a long time! The trees were cut the day before.
Bending arc of the sun in southerly decline
beyond the frozen garden
over the slender curve of the earth
while I hold my winter breath –
still upon still in the morning sunlight.
Birds and squirrels come to the fountain
looking for water in deep ice.
I’ll put out a pail of warm water,
change it before it freezes hard –
soon the sun will spring bring again.
Portland, Oregon – January 6, 2017 – Feast of the Epiphany
Along the banks of the McKenzie
two trees stand over a cold Christmas flow
of rippled waters in thrilling rush.
One day the McKenzie will take them with her
but for now they remain, leafless in afternoon light,
stripped of but branch and bud by winter.
I came to see the river
yet what do I miss when I see
what I come to look upon?
This – beauty bare branches in a wind flown sky
flailing long arms in the breeze and water surges –
like young girls racing along a summer beach.
Portland, Oregon – January 4, 2017
Photo is my own, taken on December 27, 2016 above the McKenzie river, Oregon.
Here is the river:
In Cascadia 