The Calm of Dawn

No panic
Just the first golden glisten
Of dawn
On the autumn leaves.

No racing heartbeat
Just the wet dew of grass
The tiny frog
Watching from the leaf pile

No fear
Just the rustle
Of bird, of breeze
In the thinning treetops

If I could bottle this
Could link myself to the trees
All day
The stress would never
Overwhelm me
Again.

Step Back

Put down the list of things to do

Save it

For a moment when your jaw

Isn't clenched

When the words

Don't blear together

From the throbbing behind your eyes

The floor needs sweeping

So put on some soft socks

To mask the feeling

Tuck the dishes into the sink

And cover them with a towel

The laundry can wait until tomorrow

Now is not the time for stress

Your brain can't handle much more

Without committing suicide

So let go...

Open the shutters wide

And soften your eyes with the green of trees

Drift along with the music

Of the turning of the earth

Feel it rumble under your toes

And echo with your own heart beat

God didn't create while panicked

He made it all slowly

Step by step

Looking over each little plant

To say,

Yes, that is good.

What Do You See?

A squirrel taps its way

Across the road

And up into a tree

A strange cross between

A persian cat

Its tale a fluff of gray

A softness I envy

Grace I'll never hope to learn

And a rat

A pint-sized rodent scavenger

A wild thing

With rat-like claws

A lurker in the shadows.

I know it is more rat

Than feline

And yet as I brake the car

With haste

And watch its tail flip angrily at me

Its dark eyes peek

Suspicious at me

I see a friend

And not an enemy

And so I cannot help

But see humanity

A few true rats, yes,

But most of us

More fluff than claws.

Morning

After a hard night's (lack of) rest

The kindest greeting

Full of hope and joy and expectation

Is sunrise.

Walking in the Wet

The streets glisten

Rough-hewn iron

In the rain

No cars

No pets

Only cringing spiders

Webbed in sparkles

Under tree limbs

I watch them

And walk around them

Cautiously

Unwilling to feel the thread

Or their unwelcome legs

Unwilling to harm

Their world

My feet are only noise

Beneath me

My sweat no more a scent

Than newly fallen rain

And we are one

The night and me

Wet, glistening, new

We smile to each other

Knowingly

In parting

As dawn breaks.

Trees

[Note: For the next few posts--or however long it takes me to come down from my manic high--I'm going to be posting all about the stuff I LOVE... and if you prefer depressing, angst-ridden posts by me, you'll need to scroll down a few days (I have plenty of them to spare, I'm afraid). I'm too happy to be sad right now.]

I THINK that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree. -"Trees," by Joyce Kilmer

I won't quote the rest, mainly because the poem isn't really that good (but also because this is my blog, not Joyce Kilmer's). But I share Kilmer's sentiment, for I like pretty much nothing as supremely as trees. Why do you think I moved to Seattle? For the rain? Come on!

I have lived in many relatively treeless places in the past--Las Vegas, Kansas, Oklahoma, central Illinois (cornfields for as far as the eye can see)--and it wasn't fun. In the heat, the sun beats down without a break. In the winter, all I can see is gray. My soul dries out during the winter, crackling like the deciduous trees after an ice storm.

I know a lot of people love flowers--but my nose is sensitive, and I've found over the years that I react to many flowers. Easter lilies will drive me out of a church just so that my throat doesn't close up. Even now, walking through a spring-ish, flowering world, I find that my eyes water from the heady smell.

But remember that evergreen scent from a real Christmas tree? Heavenly. A divine mixture of earth, magic, and the color green.

Can you hear the rustle of the trees when the wind blows gently through them? Even in your mind, I know you can. Close your eyes and wait, and the same wind, touched with the warm green of the trees, will reach you. Julius Lester's novel Cupid suggests that if you stop and listen, you'll hear the message the trees are telling you, for the sound is their whispering, and only the true believer can understand it.

If you can, seek out the quaking aspen, my favorite tree EVER. It's from the poplar family, but is far smaller and more delicate than its cousin the cottonwood... Its leaves look like coins, green on one side, silver on the other, and when the wind blows through them, the whole tree shimmers like magic.

Check it out: Aspen Video

So, what are your favorite trees?

The Rain

Rain drips along the house, calling

I sit in the dark, trying to ignore

The softened reminder

Of the world outside

Papers clog my brain

Students' hopes

Future grades

Present scores

And the rain drips on, singing like a child

I turn back to the world of dry

Arid thoughts

Analyzing red pens

Instructions, advice

And the rain murmurs to me from the darkness

Inside is dry and safe

And warm

A world of known, of comfort, blankets

Safe and soft

Yet I long to step outside

Into the deep of morning

For the cold splash of rain

To wake me from this sleep.