Poetry

Approaching Samhain

The space between the spheres thins and the wind creates passageways.

The spirits are outraged; how could they be otherwise?  Their dance tramples

And blows things down, but still cannot help but create beauty.

The leaves–green, red, gold, brown from the drought, that distant memory–

Hang listlessly with the weight of rain and a bit of slush

Hardly even dancing in the wind, but still becoming perhaps

More  extravagantly lovely by the  storm’s grey light.

 

Share

As I Read This Poem

This morning, as I read this poem by Janet Hoffman, which is collected in Plain Living–A Quaker Path to Simplicity by Catherine Whitmire, I thought of friends and family and students and colleagues who are living with loss and illness and other struggles.

I wish sometimes that I could heal or make happy everyone I know. Knowing that is not possible or even right, I wish for myself and those in need to know strength and courage and joy even when faced with causes for deep suffering.

Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.

Share

Outside the Federal Courthouse at Lunchtime

“Sometimes,” said the woman in red sitting outside the courthouse.

“Sometimes you gotta,” she said to her co-workers, the red jersey

Of her dress clinging to her ample curves while she kicked

The granite ledge where she sat amidst a din of everyone talking

At every one else, not listening, some smoking, but not eating, on a break

Of some kind.  Maybe they were jurors not court staff or perhaps visitors.

Funny that they didn’t have some kind of badge, all of them talking.

All of them talking and looking like they did the same type of work or had something

In common, talking all at once to a group that was familiar, but didn’t care to listen.

Amidst the talking, too many at once, and the clacking of her heels, like a kid, against

The granite ledge, “sometimes you just gotta be quiet,” she said to nobody listening.

Share