I think the situation’s been resolved,
though feelings in some parties may be sore
awhile yet. What’s hopefully evolved
are attitudes that don’t close any door.
By statements made we’re understanding more.
By hugs exchanged is mute forgiveness set.
Some courage and humility restore
an equanimity. We’ll not forget.
The vernal rain that wet us yesterday,
continuing to drizzle overnight,
made blossoms droop and leafing branchlets splay
upon the ground and wooden walk. The sight
of greenlings down comprised a dawn display.
I sheared and composted by early light,
and spooked a baby skunk that loosed its spray.
Unscathed I breathe musk odor as I write.
I left four days ago, before the bloom.
Now racemes of wisteria cascade.
They hang like leis outside my welcome room,
and pause my burdened homecoming parade.
I’m sorry I missed buds, but wouldn’t trade
my travel for the lacy white debut.
I earned good memories that will not fade.
But now I’m softly grateful for this view.
The plane from SFO was late to land,
but even so we boarded per the list.
And waited. UA lets the lapse expand
to fit a fit arrival, and insist
they operate on time. I can’t command
the system but I comprehend the gist,
and I reach home by nightfall, so I’m glad.
Both ends pay TSA. The drill’s not bad.
Collectively we tossed upon the flame
each individual’s selected sore.
We’d penciled onto paper – some the same
and others varied, muted moved to more
by targeting attention to restore
perspective to perception’s element.
Then warmed by dying injuries, we pour
out breath to song and motive to intent.
“I’ll graciously bow out,” the message read,
“unless you all agree to change the date.”
But what the writer meant to say, instead,
was “I’m too stressed and I won’t modulate
my petulance. I’ve tried adult of late,
and now I need to throw a hissy fit.
I hope you grownups understand. I’d hate
to have you deem me inappropriate.”
I’m here so much I have a nice routine
alternative to home, without some stuff,
considerately muting my machine
but solving, writing, walking. It’s not tough;
I get my exercise, familiar scene,
variety but salt and wine enough.
And precious time to more than talk: to touch
a favorite who returns my love so much.
Exactly when I needed it, I feel,
an expert spoke to me about a way
so apt to make the sitting-still appeal,
yet loose ideas within cognition’s sway.
Eight minus one in lessons on the reel,
and I completed them as of today.
Securely I now comfort-meditate.
You’d better, friend, if you’d participate.
(Inspired by Light Watkins and his acronym EASY)
My son reminded me, a week ago,
when I defended how to use a word,
that language is made up. Like I don’t know?
I don’t oppose the current; that’s absurd.
But histories are elegant; they show
us patterns of our thoughts. And what occurred
creating numbers let our markets grow.
Exchange of information is the aim,
and bartering needs quantity and name.
I tripped a day ago, but didn’t fall
too hard. Encountering a sidewalk crack,
I stumbled two steps angling to a sprawl
on dirt and weeds beside the concrete track.
I’m pleased to note I didn’t strain my back;
I broke no bone, although I bruised a palm
and slightly wrenched a wrist. Not out of whack,
I aim to notice more, and maintain calm.
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