Here Comes the Rain

Response to Thursday Think Tank Prompt #12: with perfect timing,
it is raining for the first time in months :)

Here come

the first raindrops

since April,

hitting the dry and dusty earth,

as welcome as silver dollars,

as welcome as a dear friend

who's been gone too long.

Gray clouds have traveled

across the sky

and misted the mountains,

as welcome as the cycle

of the seasons,

turning and turning us

towards fall.

Within, my heart does

a boogie-shimmy,

sings a full-throated

hallelujah chorus.

I want to stamp

in the puddles

like a child,

as soon as

there are puddles.

Each blade of grass

(that's still alive)

has its head tipped back,

mouth open,

an oh-yeah-mama-come-to-meetin'

look on its face.

They are practically

rolling their shoulders

around.

("Baby, it's been

so long!!")

The weeping willows

are doing

the Dance of the Seven Veils.

The horse trough

is drinking it in.

My wolf-dog

is lying

in the rain,

finally cool enough

inside his skin.

In the middle

of a rainforest,

we have been

tinder-dry

for months.

So glorious

the sound

of raindrops

on the roof.

God's Paintbrush

The middle of the Rocky Mountains - Jon Merk photo

This could be a painting

by Cezanne:

the layers of light,

the colors of the sky,

clouds painted on the water

by a heavenly Artist's

hand;

Or a landscape by Monet,

images softening and blurring

in the corner of the eye:

a perfection of beauty

lighting up

the land.

The light is something

out of

Dali's dreams.

And if you rounded

the soft lines enough,

where the mountain's edge

is rough and clear,

it seems

Van Gogh himself

might even

feel welcome

here.

I am no artist

but when I view

the shape and color

of this

sky,

see the clouds

swimming in the lake,

the mountain

reaching high,

there is

so much beauty

ablaze that

even I

can surmise

what God

must have felt,

feel all

He must have

wished,

the day He

put down His

paintbrush,

after painting

this.

These eyes.......

[written in reponse to Poets United's Thursday Think Tank Prompt : The Eyes]

My eyes
are on my mind today.
Ever since the doctor said
the gel in my eyeballs
is collapsing in on itself,
I have noticed my vision
getting blurry,
deteriorating.

I have been reading
faster and faster,
trying to get all the books read
that I want to read,
typing faster and faster,
trying to get all the poems
and stories in one place
to say what I did
when I was here.

He'll see me at 2:30
next Tuesday
and $120 later
we'll know
what's up.

These eyes
have seen a lot.
They have gotten me
through
hard times
by always looking up,
watching the sky,
reminding me
there is a bigger picture
than the one in front of me.

These eyes
have looked on
mountains and meadows
and waves rushing swiftly
in to shore.
They have marveled at
sunrises and sunsets
and storm clouds
and forests
and midnight moons.

They have smiled at dogs
and babies
and old people,
and have feasted
on the whole rich panorama
of life.

These eyes.....
may I keep seeing
through
these eyes...........

THE MOUNTAINS OF THE MOON

Clayoquot Sound - August 26, 2000

We leave the bay,

I, looking back,

at the green, green

living island

that I love:

rounded hills

humped under wisps of cloud,

looking like misty Mountains of the Moon;

jellyfish bubbling eerily

among raindrops in the bay,

eagle hunch-shouldered in the rain,

the wake behind the boat

marking the distance

I am forced to travel

again and

yet again

away from the place

where I most belong,

my eyes loving each tree, each hill,

each bird along the way,

my heart singing its

farewell-till-next-time song.

This is the landscape of my soul,

where my spirit

is at home,

where I no longer live.

In my life,

what I most want

to for forever keep,

the Universe

always asks me

one thing:

give.

On the other side of the island,

my lover lives.

With him my heart resides,

my body

constantly journeying

back and forth

for time spent

by his side.

There and away,

there and away,

I go,

taking with me

every golden moment

for I know

it has to

last me

till another day. I gave my heart.

This is the price

I pay.

I live

somewhere

in the middle,

in between.

Alone, and missing both,

I store

all that there has been,

carefully

as nuts for a winter squirrel,

to bring out

when the visits

grow fewer and far between:

a rounded hump of mountain,

his head on the pillow,

his tender smile,

misty cloud on old-growth,

the way we watch the stars a while,

an eagle soaring skywards

in full and joyous flight,

and the way

his tender hand finds mine

within the dark of night.

It seems I am always

driving away

from something I love,

always in a state of longing,

loving

loving

with all my heart

but not belonging.

Why does life require

so much more from me?

Yet I remember

how my soul needs to think.

I am always driving towards

something I love

as well:

that glorious sweep of waves

rushing to shore,

the way my car speeds up

as it heads his way,

the way my heart lifts

at the sight of what once was home

before,

or his face,

lit up in welcome,

that dear face

I spent my whole life

looking for.

My heart waited a lonely lifetime

for happiness to begin;

for my two loves

to find the waiting chambers

of my heart

and move right in.

Now, rich in love,

it has much

with which to fill

those empty rooms:

my ocean-spirit place,

my dear one's face -

my heart,

making its evolutionary journey

via Coombs.

SONG OF THE MOUNTAINS

Clayoquot Sound, photo through Friends of Clayoquot Sound

[This poem was written as I ferried down the Inside Passage from the north, where I had wintered, (hibernated!), back home to my beloved Tofino. Joy accompanied me, every inch of the journey.]


Song of the green, green hills,
Song of the porpoise leaping,
Ice-pack down the mountain seeping
A sudden torrent, like a giant weeping;
Prayer of the silent earth,
Deep within, where the springtime's stirring,
Gratitude into my heart creeping -
My spirit waking, which had long been sleeping.

I'm alive as the waterfall,
Cascading downward, like a fountain.
Its living waters carve an ageless path -
Eternity upon the velvet mountain.

Song of the evening sky,
Soft colors fading, end-of-day to starshine,
Each star a promise of a new tomorrow,
Song of the hopeful heart that is mine.

Surge of the sea-green foam,
Sound of the mountains singing,
Joy within me ringing,
Thrum of the motor bringing me,
Lift of my heart winging me,
Song of the mountains singing me
All the way home.