"4 Hours & 17 Minutes"

Summer crickets cackled
outside my bathroom window

and as I creamed my neck
I thought of the days' wonders

I had all but ignored.
I let myself cry in front

of a new friend; certainly
a mark of love and openness.

I let go the daughter who leaves
too soon happily and without worry.

I learned my laptop battery has
exactly four hours and seventeen minutes

before it dies (a good thing to know),
I napped without guilt.

I realized that I actually
missed my businesses on my days off

like they were old faithful friends
not quadruplets at feeding time.

And just now, when I
turned on the light in the living room

in order to put down these thoughts
just what a gift my poems are

to me.

"A Pillar and A Puddle"

I'm a pillar
and I'm a puddle.

A shining saint
who's in a muddle.

I clear a space
for contemplation

yet end up crying,
my great temptation.

"Not enough?" cried the pillar
as it held the world in place.

"Not enough" sighed the puddle
who rushed to fill the space.

All at once the sky crackled
with delightening.

And though it all seemed
very frightening

the pillar and the puddle
formed an extraordinary huddle

and together shouted
"Not Enough!"

Until the Universe shook
with gales of laughter.

"Not enough?" the voice
said quite lovingly, "After

all I did to show my love,
from deep below and up above,

and you still want
More?"

"More!" the pillar and the puddle
cried together, linked arms and grinned again.

I'm a pillar
and I'm a puddle.

A shining saint
who's in a muddle.

"Flying Blind"

I am flying blind
in a storm of my own making.

How can I ask for guidance
or a homing beacon?

What I really need, it seems,
is the formula to quit creating storms

or to learn to love the excitement
of flying blind.

Woo hoo!

Still,

I don't much care for flying
and blindness isn't all that.

Now what?

Peace,

for that is all there really

is.

"Desire"

Why can I think of 100 reasons
something can't or shouldn't be done,

and struggle to think of why
a thing can or should be done?

Could I be asking
the wrong questions?

Maybe can and can't and should
and shouldn't are unimportant.

What's left, then, after the
raucous circus troop of can can'ts and should shouldn'ts?

Desire.

Pure. Real. Attractive.

"And He shall give you
the desires of your heart."

That's all the matters.

"Still Life"

Let the stillness

become my center again

meet me there will you

and we can bask in the light

of one another

"One For All"

I guess what I really want is the truth.
The truth about peace. The truth of family.
The truth in work, time, space and politics.

I have lost my taste for illusions, I think,
and I want celebration from the heart
with or without candles.

I want work from my center
that captures and sets free inspiration
to you from me.

I want a world that makes sense
and a day that is not overfilled
I want the heart of my family, not just

their agreement or help or words.
I want the stillness inherent in all things
to join my memory again now.

I guess what I am trying to say is
I want Heaven
and I want it now.

And lest this sound churlish
and self centered I will add--
I want it for all.

"A Babe in the Garden"

In a few minutes
it will have been fifteen years

since she arrived in the world,
a babe in the garden, again.

The sweetness from whence she came
still lingers and pooles,

eddying around her as a tide.
She has never quite believed

all I told her about
"How Things Are" and

I think she knows the secret
about this land of dreams.

but having fallen in love
with stories and their telling

long ago--she will
stay until the end

enjoying every character,
event and scene in the drama

of her own making.

"Along for the Ride"

What is wrong with me?
Why can't I plan ahead
for the things I love?

Is this a challenge
of cross purposes
in my head and heart

or am I shying away
from the unleashing
of real happiness?

What if I let happiness
go its own way
and I just went along for the ride:

"Birthday Blues"

She's right.
I do do everything
at last minute.

Her tears were my own.
I, too, hated the idea
you can't always get

what
you
want

and here we are again,
gathering at last minute
the ingredients for celebration

of the birth
of our dear one.

Isn't there a better way
to celebrate
what is

than by clinging
to what
is not?

"Music Download"

I download my heart into you
that I might see who I am

thank you for allowing
my Self to sit safely in your embrace

while I compose myself
in time, once again, to rejoin

the song of eternity
in our heart

"Invitation to Tea"

Will I ever be able to lovingly accept
my insanity of the dream separation?

I have arrived at the concrete
core of my unwillingness

and I can but shrug my shoulders
in disbelief that this part of me

still wants the illusion more
that truth. Perhaps this is

a deep fear, an underground cavern
of terror not yet uncovered by the Holy Spirit.

In that case I think I will
just sit here and have a nice

cup of tea and rest while the Spirit
in me prepares the way

for gentle awakening.

"Or Not"

How can resistance itself satisfy me
when I could have both the resistance
and what I am resisting?

What if resistance was simply
the power grid switching on
the searchlight of truth

and by allowing both I
am set free from always
having to chose?

Today I step away from
the illusion of choice for
I am already home

where happiness lives
and fear is but the
thought I can choose

happiness
or not.

"What if I Choose now?"

What if the garage was cleaned
and the old carpet disposed of and the wood refinished?

What if the paint was touched up
and everything was in its place?

What if my blog was a success
and my books were published?

What if I could run five miles
and adored my vegetables?

What if my husband surprised
me with a Tiffany bracelet?

What if my children were happy
and fulfilled and my parents on their own?

Would I be any happier than
I can be right now?

Now is where I choose my happiness
the rest is just a footnote of time.

If that thought gives you a slight
sinking feeling then you

have just come face to face
with eternity.

Eternity is the everpresent
tide of joy we ride on as

we spin our tales of living.
Now is the time to let go

and float on that swell
of delight in my bosom

that I thought was indigestion,
that unknown tickle

I feel underlying my daily
choices is who I am.

How can illusions satisfy
when I am the truth?