Tag Archives: Grace

BEYOND THE WIRE

 

 

We have places yet
before the plow,
the yellow steel,

for naked grace—
the wild dance
that steps lightly

upon this ground.
Our clumsy dreams
are child’s play,

drunken dumb shows
of cell phone selfies
squinched in squares.

Blessed be the buck
in rut with purpose
beyond the wire.

 

WINTER SYCAMORES

 

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These silent spirits frolicking
for centuries along the creek
rooted, yet reaching for more light
that only naked can I see
each time they changed their minds—
with each petticoat pooled dry
and blown away from their feet.

Drawn to their wild dance
of indecision, each fickle fantasy
grown smooth with balanced grace,
I am moved to forget the price
of being human and must join them
upon the green beneath the gray
to greet the ghosts gone-on before me.

 

ALONG THE WAY

 

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No sense.
Nonsense.

Sometimes most clearly
through the eyes
of the bewildered

we see ourselves
spawned upon this earth
not as peacemakers

nor avenging angels,
but fallible and human
driven to plod on.

How do we find our grace
like salmon,
like rattlesnakes

born elsewhere?
How do we know the way
it makes us,

shapes us
into words,
into song?

                              for Merilee

 

The Challenge of Grace

In the days when I was young, being older carried certain rewards like riding my bike, instead of the school bus, the two miles to town, having a shotgun or the freedom of a driver’s license – important hurdles to adulthood I anticipated clearing in my dreams, over and over, until they came true. Each New Year was like a birthday, getting closer to that magic 21!

Today, much of that anticipation wanes, its momentum coasting, yet the New Year still stands as a symbolic landmark in my life – and like a new leaf, it’s a chance for a fresh start. The covers of last year’s poetry are closed into a chapbook, and into a file, so I can begin anew, jettisoning the old stuff, looking forward to something better. Because the poetry is a parallel plane to living, this also means closing the covers on the clutter and the non-productive that has attached itself to me, or I to it, over the year(s). A time to trim down to help find my grace.

Cowmen over 60 are rare enough in 2011, but for any of us to find our grace, despite the friction in our joints, seems to be the ultimate challenge – to grin and go on like we could dance. So much of it is timing and gravity, the weight of those things we don’t need that keep us out of step with what’s happening. In retrospect, I can see the significance of each step and stumble, but now becoming so engrossed with what’s at my feet, I have to remind myself to look up to see where I’m going.

Robbin and I wish you all a New Year of Grace.