Small Stone: January 3, 2003

Neighbor’s trash barrels overflowing.

In my own life, so much excess, not just trash ─ possessions

and food and clothes and entertainment and technology.
 

As I went around the corner,

I realized that the sad young man I see, sometimes speak with,

occasionally give a few dollars, has been away from his doorways

for some days. How many? In the excess of my life I have not noticed.

He had gone from thin to emaciated in recent weeks,

pulling even tighter into his mostly silent world on the street.

A crumpled bill or a few coins, even a few moments of concern

won’t solve his problems. But, in the incredible excess of my life

and the lives of folks all around me, can’t we find a way to make

it more equitable? Or, at least be aware?

Small Stone: January 2, 2013

The second morning of the year

is crisp and bright.

Traffic seems subdued and slow.

Pedestrians, bundled for winter, distracted.

A crushed, once festive paper hat

in the gutter, a still fragrant pine

waits to be recycled. 

A quiet sense: something is unfinished.

Small Stone: January 1, 2013

For the next 31 days, I will be participating in 

the Mindful Writing Challenge and will be making

an intentional observation of some aspect of my life each day.

If you would like to participate, just click on the "small stones" badge

on the right column and it will take you to the wonderful 

folks at Writing Our Way Home.

Intense young men,

lilting Español, raucous English

compañeros, friends

on a sunny winter afternoon.

Pick-up soccer….”free for all to participate”.

So aware that for today,

my participation is observing.

Intently haphazard

All of my posts over the last year have been my writing. But, I would like to end the year with a poem by Denise Levertov which has given me my motto for the year ahead. Best wishes for a Happy New Year.

Overland to the Islands

Let's go—much as that dog goes,
intently haphazard. The
Mexican light on a day that
'smells like autumn in Connecticut'
makes iris ripples on his
black gleaming fur—and that too
is as one would desire—a radiance
consorting with the dance.
                       Under his feet
rocks and mud, his imagination, sniffing,
engaged in its perceptions—dancing
edgeways, there's nothing
the dog disdains on his way,
nevertheless he
keeps moving, changing
pace and approach but
not direction—'every step an arrival.'

by Denise Levertov
from Overland to the Islands
publisher: Jonathan Williams, 1958

Frank and Zeke are dogs that I loved and are no longer dancing edgeways in this reality.

The world turns green

It seems almost cruel

to show such splendid days

when cold and snow is blasting

across the continent.

But, this is our reality.

The rains come, the world

turns green and the palms

glory in the late afternoon sun.

Hmmm. Winter?

Winter's rest

 Life in so many forms slows for winter.

But, a brief walk toward my neighborhood park

tells me that winter is a time for new beginning

in our climate. Slowness, here, comes in mid-summer 

when the grasses go to seed and lack of rain 

tempers rampant growth.

In December, even a big Pacific storm is moderate:

an inch of rain, winds 30 mph, temp in the 40’s and 50’s.

So, quiet winter with its short days is a soft renewal 

in California. I love living here. It is home and where I was born,

in an early Spring quite a long time ago.

Merry Christmas

Sending warm Christmas greetings from sunny California.

(Well, it is actually wet and cool today)

Santa seems to be part of the busy crowd in my neighborhood ─

out shopping and stocking up on goodies for the celebration.

I hope your Christmas-tide is full of happiness and warmth.