Turning

A leaf falls
and flutters
twisting and
turning
like a breath caught
in the wind

A page turns
and bends
sliding and
passing
through the book
to its end

A life moves
and breathes
seeking and
yearning
for the glory
to begin

A hand reaches
and touches
speaking and
encouraging
this is not
the end

Simplicity

A day consisting of
dish washing
meal cooking
child's play
laundry folding

It seems to me
this is enough
this is full life
this is good because

It is simple
and yet
full

With That Moon Language by Hafez

I recently read this on another blog.  I agree so deeply with the words of this Persian lyric poet that I am reprinting them here.

With That Moon Language

Admit something:
Everyone you see, you say to them,
     "Love me."
Of course you do not do this out loud;
     Otherwise,
Someone would call the cops.
Still though, think about this,
This great pull in us to connect.
Why not become one
Who lives with a full moon in each eye
That is always saying
With that sweet moon
     Language
What every other eye in this world
     Is dying to
     Hear.

-- Hafez

It's Cold by the Window

It's cold by the window
I'm not sure where I'm going

It's cold by the window
I'm not sure where I've been

It's cold by the window
I'm not sure if I'm moving

It's cold by the window
I'm rocked along by wind

It's cold by the window
I don't know if I want this

It's cold by the window
I can't tell if I should

It's cold by the window
I leave my heart in pieces

It's warm by the fire
I turn my heart to you

Swimmer's Ear

Stroke, stroke, breathe.
Stroke, stroke, breathe.

I sink beneath the surface
in an attempt to lose myself
I move forward through my stroke
Humming as I exhale

I have found my rhythm
Stroke, stroke, breathe.

My thoughts move through
water with me, leading
as I go, leaning as I fall
into body before mind

I have lost my rhythm

Stroke, stroke...

I power through the position
faltering with my failure
reaching out for more
grasping at the rhythm

I have found my stride

Stroke, stroke, breathe.
Stroke, stroke, breathe.
Stroke,
         stroke,
                breathe.

Jumble Gym

I am jumbled up today.
I am feeling many ways.
I cannot untwist this mat.
My feet are straight;
My arms are flat.
I do not know which way to turn.
I love to listen,
Seek to burn
A tired message in my head
Aound and round, its play is dead.
The needle is so old it's worn.
I cannot hear the truth it scorns.
I love to listen;
I'm loathe to speak.
I need the source;
That's all I seek.

Letter to My Computer, dated 9-16-2010

dedicated to Courtney and all others who know the agony of staring down a blank "page" to wrestle the words from within

Dear Machine,

I will face you. 
I will stare you down. 
You will not get the best of me. 

I always win staring wars. 

You are not my nemisis. 
That demon lives within. 

You are not my obstacle. 
I create that on a whim.

You are not my focus.
I live because I write.

You have not that power.
I now will end this fight.

I always win staring wars.
I always win staring wars.
I always win---

Yours Faithfully,
Master