In the land of plenty yet divided,
We glance at each other sideways
From the edges of far corners,
The old souls from old countries
You never know what flavor
Of the summer side of life,
Wanders back remembering
The time when the crooked arms
Turn into bear hugs
With promises in tears.
All day and all night I hear
The drum beats of broken hearts
Marching on the pockmarked road
Of despair dreaming
The respite and repair
savoring the hours of forgiveness to come
Like summer night the moon fills the ether
That is not meant for a faint of heart.
Here, the poem meets its prayer–
The big heart with forgiveness,
Playing the flute to soothe sorrow
Bringing joy like wind
Calming the face of water,
Lays an olive branch on the side.
Year of the Rat
An Inventory of My Mother’s Pocket
Inspired by a Botanical Drawing of Patricia McDonagh
Crucibulum Laeve, Bird’s Nest Fungus
Quite the challenging task for your art.
A view of nature’s micro-beauty
you have provided.
The minute feathery drawing of the
nest, painted with the affection
of a Renoir.
The delicate basket is shaped like the most
intricate badminton shuttlecock,
At the base ,the “splash cup”,
the container for the precious cargo.
In that base, were nested those eight
waiting spores, sitting patiently
for their portrait.
Only a single raindrop can serve
to release their latent energy,
causing a micro-explosion,
launching the spores like
rockets into the air above.
I wonder if your soul too, was waiting
for the special infusion,
that magic thrust into something new.
No doubt that made you craft this species
of coiled excitement, that sat
under your microscope.
Perhaps we all contain splash cups,
waiting and needing a particular
magic launch code.
I saw that release many times,
the thrill of spotting the Lobster Claw mushroom,
or when finding the first Morel of the season.
You burst into an incandescent glow,
your heart jumping, filled with joy,
conditions perfect for the leap.
And so with the delicacy of a single haired brush
you froze the event on the paper.
See those two spores flying free
with their gossamer tails trailing,
frozen in time and space.
An invitation for us all to catch the
wonder and excitement of release.