anonyrrie

 

Once my teacher set me on a high stool
for laughing. She thought the eyes
of my classmates would whittle me to size.
But they said otherwise.

We'd laugh too if we knew how.

I pinned my gaze out the window
on a ripe line of sky.

That's where I was going.

-from "Fuel" by  Naomi Shihab Nye

 

fluent nature

To be a giant and keep quiet about it,
To stay in one's own place;
To stand for the constant presence of process
And always to seem the same;
To be steady as a rock and always trembling,
Having the hard appearance of death
With the soft, fluent nature of growth,
One's Being deceptively armored,
One's Becoming deceptively vulnerable,
To be so tough, and take the light so well,
Freely providing forbidden knowledge
Of so many things about heaven and earth
For which we should otherwise have no word-
Poems or people are rarely so lovely,
And even when they have great qualities
They tend to tell you rather then exemplify
What they believe themselves to be about,
While from the moving silence of trees,
Whether in storm or calm, in leaf and naked,
Night or day, we draw conclusions of our own,
Sustaining and unnoticed as our breath,
And perilous also-though there has never been
A critical tree-about the nature of things.

- Howard Nemerov, "Trees"

Adopt the pace of nature; her secret is patience.

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Autumn Movement

I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.

The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman, 
       the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.

The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things 
       come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind, and the old things go, 
       not one lasts.

- Carl Sandburg

in search of stillness

Know that you have a center.
Know that you belong there.
Know that the path to the center takes no effort.

- Deepak Chopra

Halcyon Days

Stone worn

Overgrown

Pristine thorns

Sheep shorn

Tinkling below

Roofless walls

Rooks overlook

I told you so

Babbles the brook

- Samuel Menashe, "Ruins"

 

At the Frontier

The blackbird sings at

the frontier of his music.

The branch where he sat

marks the brink of doubt,

is the outpost of his realm,

edge from which to rout

encroachers with trills

and melismatic runs sur-

passing earthbound skills.

It sounds like ardor,

it sounds like joy. We are glad

here at the border

where he signs the air

with his invisible staves,

“Trespassers beware”—

Song as survival—

a kind of pure music which

we cannot rival.

- A.E. Stallings, "Blackbird Etude"

 

Afterwards

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.
- from "Closing Time" by Dan Wilson

Beginning

The moon drops one or two feathers into the field.   

The dark wheat listens.

Be still.

Now.

There they are, the moon's young, trying

Their wings.

Between trees, a slender woman lifts up the lovely shadow

Of her face, and now she steps into the air, now she is gone

Wholly, into the air.

I stand alone by an elder tree, I do not dare breathe

Or move.

I listen.

The wheat leans back toward its own darkness,

And I lean toward mine.

- James Wright