Wind

Deodar

/ Korin Thomas / 2 Comments

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“We wish to become a pine tree with the wind singing in our branches, because we believe that a pine tree does not suffer.” Thich Nhat Hanh, The Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching.

We live under the canopy of the Deodar
with long, horizontal, drooping branches
overreaching our home, calming our senses;
a green and lush canopy of cedar stillness
in graceful boughs, undulating, breathing
with each push of air, each alighting bird.

How little we know of life in our several seasons
but that we care, we love, and we suffer.
We imagine what may yet bring suffering
and with every stir of a portending wind –
flutter, breeze, gust, or gale –
we search for ways out of its grasp.

Over us the Deodar resides, layered
in long limbs hovering in somber reaches,
from whose masses of green and gray
come solace for suffering as it suffers not.
From its heights it drips rain in nourishing showers
wafts about it a green swirl of silence
like whispering words about living and dying,
of nirvana and the end of suffering.

Portland, Oregon – February 17, 2017

The Deodara cedar is common in Cascadia and in our own yard in which two younger versions are ascending to 20-30 feet near the giant in my photo.  Interesting that the name “Deodar” is from the Hindi deod ā r < Sanskrit devad ā ru, equivalent to deva god + d ā ru wood, or, “wood of the gods.” The OED uses “timber” of the gods.  This noble appellation is apparently given due to the hardness and durability of the wood.  Nice to know!

Photo is my own, taken on February 17, 2017

Two Trees

/ Korin Thomas / Leave a comment

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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:

mckenzie-river-afternoon-12-28-16

Fading Coal

/ Korin Thomas / 2 Comments

Waiting…

Waiting…

Wind flutter on fading coal
in this longing season –
shrouded sun hanging low
over the gauzed and furry horizon –
the reaches of self and the world.

Wind, tree rustling cold bare branches,
thrilling spaces between dark limbs
quavering deep reaches
of space beyond our pale light,
trilling starlight gleams while stellar grains
float broadcast in cosmic fields.

Poetic dream to be wind brushed
hushed into warmth of words
from within, hidden in heart shadows,
the heat of breath on cold winter nights.

Portland, Oregon – December 14, 2016

“Poetry is not like reasoning, a power to be exerted according to the determination of the will. A man cannot say, “I will compose poetry.” The greatest poet even cannot say it; for the mind in creation is as a fading coal, which some invisible influence, like an inconstant wind, awakens to transitory brightness; this power arises from within…”

Percy Bysshe Shelley, In Defense of Poetry (paragraph 39)

http://www.bartleby.com/27/23.html

Cold Spring Wind

/ Korin Thomas / Leave a comment

Listening to Finlandia in the cold early spring
as an indecisive wind wonders where to go
whether to slash at the high tops of cedars
or to ruffle the feathers of birds hopping through the yard.
It has forgotten, apparently, its place –
to bring winter snow or spring rain?
It wanders about, as if seeking help
assistance from unseen galactic and geologic forces.
It threatens reluctantly,
unlike boastful November winds, full of storm and fury
Knowing full well they can bring what they portend.
these poor spring winds – cold, skittish –
threaten the buds on branches baring themselves,
unafraid to be touched by that breath.
It stings at insolent daffodils, smiling, waving gaily
at the toothless assault waged on them.

Ah, but here comes the rain again, slanting.

Not so toothless yet, I see.

Portland, Oregon – March 12, 2016

Inspiration from The Kalevala,  or “Poems of the Kaleva District”, Compiled by Elias Lonnrot.  The Kalevala is the national folk epic of Finland.