JakTraks

Puff, Tango, Plash

This morning, remembering
the daily hour drive east to college
into the sunrise sky
dance of imagination
widening sleep-drawn eyes
with solar soaked art,
dewy kiss, day's first smile,
light's color-coded prayer
for all of us
across its one horizon.

Violet puffs the pipe of dawn,
tango of tangled orange and reds,
pointillist dots petal pink and lime,
plash of gold and scarlet mountains
reflecting Tibet,
sometimes indigo alone
bleaching to cloudless turquoise,
or closed blinds black and gray,
each dawn a postcard to "Dear Me,"
signed, "I'm on my way."

June 5

a quintessential late spring day
lucky me
I get to play
no call list or meetings
no memos for reading
just me and the trees
catching some rays

Tree Friends

1
grande dame of the ball
long emerald velvet gown
beaded in brown cones

2
two tall matriarchs
wind tossing their thinning hair
dyed the tint of youth

3
Robert Frost swing set
sleek canoes slicing water
possibilities

4
shoulder to shoulder
five beauties flip their full skirts
dancing the can-can

5
neighborhood triplets
long mops and thin sturdy legs
too young for weeping

6
feigning middle class
impossible in the wind
silver is revealed

7
an aura of zeus
massively girded and armed
the block's guardian

8
on fire with belief
anarchists make their statement
not waiting for Fall

9
junior is tethered
in training for adulthood
stand up straight don't slouch

Sip of Summer

the first hot day this spring
though the breeze carries
whispers of winter

bare arms legs and feet
buzz with the same joy
as the bee
flying zig-zag circles
above the evergreen bush

a tree bud
swollen with anticipation
reminds me of being nine
and ten days left
before summer vacation

Purple Grass

when very young
we're gods and goddesses
of color

purple grass greenish sky
ochre sun teal moon
rivers rushing in burgundy
silver stones wash by

wondrous thing: it isn't strange
to us still fresh and free
from the palette of our birth

the awe-inducing palette
of our birth

Blinds

the closed blinds
begin to glow
with first light

And what is a lit-up face
if not that

if I'd never seen the sun
I'd say: magic

- ness

if there isn't more or less
then all giving is the same
and all receiving
and every pain

then love is always what it is
no matter that it seems
somewhat lacking or too much
according to our dream

nothing can be stripped or added
to loveli-ness that makes it so
though music may sound loud or low
all vibrations dip and crest
and dressing up or dressing down
alters not respectful-ness

less could be some absent ness
and more
being opposite of less
each erode our peaceful-ness

maybe ness is heaven on earth
(and maybe its heaven in heaven)
that thing beyond dichotomy
a ness-ence of humanity

if there's anything that renders
me discernible from you
without better same or worse
it has to be unique-nessence
audaciously coloring human essence

To Be or Not To Be . . . a Buttercup

I'm really busy right now because
of my promotion at work
I don't like being this busy because
it cuts down on time to shirk

but at work I shirked to walk
the weather so genteel
and spied a single buttercup
in a soccer field

tiny drop of summer sun
just one can make you smile
much as millions of buttercups
strewn a lemon mile

standing alone it was exquisite
framed by throngs of green
just as jaunty bumptious and bright
whether or not I'd seen

asked if it had a thought for me
and I heard it say
be a drop of summer sun
a pixel in the play

Solar Vision

one two three cheers
for Al Gore
setting his sights high
asking for more
than some percent reduction
emissions and dependencies
by 2018 or 2030
or 2050

being largely oil-free
within ten years
hope enough people catch
the vision
then a ground swell

now that
would be truly amazing

of course I'm always
up for a challenge
and love the Earth
not everyone does we know

but all that human energy
focused on the renewable
imagine the leap it would be
another one to lift mankind

and not just giant . . .
gi-normous

Puddle

almost home

spotted an american goldfinch
knee deep in puddle
side of road

no other traffic
stopped the car

watched the yellow fellow
splash and flash
with chickadees and sparrows

were I a bird
I admit
wanting to be the piece of sun
regaled in black
stopping drivers in their tracks

sunny flew off
I drove away
thinking that thinking
"your ego's too large"
a tad cliche

humility whispers
brown is the goal
my spirit counters
do not do that soul
under the bushel thing

feed the cats clean the box
sweep the floor air creatures need

two wings for flight
I am one finch
ten sparrows and chicks

magic mix
of earth and fire
for shine
required

The Telling Dance

trees must relish
windy days
that's how they act
anyway

the giant pines
tip their tops
to one another
and seasonal brothers

as women with long hair
willows let fly their locks

old elms and oaks
even arthritic ones
sashay and toss

amazing grace

even one birch tree
entirely bald
dips and parries with the breeze

the leaves find voice
all share at once
pines a brusssshh
deciduous more a susssshh

reminds me of watching
my mom and dad
doing the swing at a wedding
(I was nine)
smooching
whispering
rubbing each other's buns
(Today I'd use ass
but at nine it was buns)

I think
we can't know any beings
completely
until we've seen them dance

Clover Taking Over

bowled over
by sweet clover

the lawn is spackled
salted
freckled
a gift from the house behind us
that's been for sale
empty a long time

the invasion
from one lawn to another
stretches five houses away
either side
front and back
ever spreading

warm sunny days
the neighborhood is blissed by
sweet clover cologne
subtle
inviting you to fill your lungs
again and again

well
its better than an invasion of Martians
uninvited relatives
tree beetles that bore
or crabby grass

clover clover
you're invited over
I will not spray
your bloom and scent away

Three Days

once
for three days
I carried around peace that passes
understanding
after spending some time at dusk
appreciating the crystalline landscape
of our street
after a heavy snowfall

even though it wasn't
understandable
I knew what it was
and had paid for it
with awe and gratitude

three days without a drop
of anxiety
without a hint
of fear
just the complete peace
of our crystalline street
at dusk
after a snow fall

Hard To Comprehend

the world is largely
a showcase for weakness
connecting with others
by sharing in pain

the whole in each part
each part the whole -
why so hard to comprehend
while war is not

our power lies in hurting
strength in not being hurt
and courage is the guts it takes
to overcome our grief

we have nurtured and accept
strain as being our lot
and say
I want to be happy

and have made endurance
relationship glue
then wonder
where love is

you'd think we would have seen by now
where its not

Mother Daughter Dance

at first she was the entire world
then troop leader and leash
of my adventures

sometime while in grade school
stunned by mother's prejudice
it became clear she wasn't perfect
really a relief to know

in puberty it was obvious
mother knew nothing
sometimes a consequence was worth disobedience
but she was moody and intimidating

the day I left home mom was a weight
literally hanging from my neck
and for a decade thereafter
something I couldn't escape though I'd left

I hated that
I hated her for that
until growing into knowing she was who she was
and was who she will be

the millstone was lighter with marriage
and distance
though it turned out I married my mother
if you know what I mean

it took divorce and psychotherapy
to unload whatever wasn't "me"
then it turned out all along
the millstone was mine to undo . . . who knew

if she could look at me as a person
I'd love it
it hasn't happened yet

but I can let past images
not liked
fall off the photo page
leaving the gazillion things she did for me
and many good traits
to admire and appreciate

Late But Great Spring

spring has come jer-jer-jerking in this year
reminds me of when I learned to drive
the Plymouth stick shift

leaves on the trees still half unfurled
sticking their green toes half out
to test the water

I've gotten to know the trees
in my neighborhood
they know me too
in whatever way trees know

sometimes they bow down
as I walk by -
if its windy

lilac bushes are starting to blush
embarrassed to be late for the spring prom
or because
their dress shows a lot of bark

The Buzz About Love

love is vibration
of certain frequency and length

its the buzz
all of us are wired to carry
and radiate
no more or less than mighty Orion

our vibe is reflected back to us
or travels untrammeled

forever