On the Way to the Shore

In the long discussion
with my sacrum
about the trip to Maine
we argue
in a spasm
where only oil
and warm hands
of a professional
will get us talking again.

It is my impulse
to give up,
tired after a long day
of working with the plants
and in the garden,
let her win
and let her just complain
about needing to get out
of the car and walk,
get a drink
and a hand full
of pills.

I resist
and remember
the yoga
and the way that breathing
puts my feet on the ground,
and stretches gently
and frees the body
from the demands
of the mind.

Tomorrow we will walk
peacefully, knowing we both win,
on the shore
in the morning
at dawn.

Served

Grate fragrant cheeses
over beautifully made penne,
serve with lightly sauteed
asparagus and musky mushrooms
like this is how you eat
every day-

pluck the quills of rosemary
from the arboreal branches outside
the kitchen
and toss them into
the bowl 
with abandon,

olive oil
and a twist of lemon.

Swish and splash a bit of red wine
the color of Christ
into the round globes
of glasses and tip them
carefully toward each other
until the light chime
of longing disappears

and dinner
is finally served.

Noticing

I notice the world
differently now.

The tingle and prick
of the perfect moment hums.

I am friction
as I guide the day
toward this presence
and prayer

and I am nothing
if not filled
with joy that looks like
sunflowers and strawberries
and tiny birds
plucking blue berries
still green and full
of promise.

Solstice

On this first day of summer
the hive of my body buzzes
and opens onto the lea
of this new season.

I am more than ready
to gather the light
and the heat of the sun
until the farmer whets his stone
to sharpen the blade
that will cut me down,

let me fall to the earth,
leaving only the corona
of who I used to be
to blow away
when the mind leaves
and the thoughts
that were
about this day
disappear.

Finished with Fragile

When I am finished being fragile,
on the longest days
when I make it to twilight
with my pride unbruised
and my hands happy
for all their hard work,

take me aside and show me how to
card my wiry hair like a woman might,
gather the wavy locks between fingers
and smile,

and add a flounce
to my step or to the color
of my blouse
and I will blush
at how pretty I might feel.

Dare me to dance;
twirl like a twister,
or sway slowly,

ask me gently
to consider the word cavort
at a party or cafe

I just might
find my way
on a path to the beach
where I will
slowly wash away
with the tide,
the moon,
and the fading
of all this glorious
light.

Mosquito

Out of the corner of your eye
you see her
before you can hear her
buzz. . . .closer and closer
to your thick heat.

She lands in the dark
just at the edge of a finger,
ear or an elbow,
or a vulnerable

ankle

she pierces skin
like an artist of all needles
and let's her poison ooze
under the surface of the skin

an injection that stings
and makes you scratch
for days and into the night
as you try and sleep.

Only the humidity
and suffocation
of ninety degrees
can make it worse.

This dizzy dance
with a delicate mosquito
in the fading light
of summer.

Dropping In

Melt a couple couple of cups
of kindness and brush them on
something like the crunch of popcorn
or maybe the years you have spent
trying to find your center.
That place where you smile
unexpectedly and with so much
confidence that you are pointed
in the direction of more smiling.

It is a simple as a Saturday night
at the movies
to make a contract for happiness
with yourself.

Wake up
smell the energy
of love
and breathe
more freely
than you ever have.

It is a choice
to find joy
tucked in your hand
like the warm body
of a lover
enfolded next to your belly.

Don't breathe because you are following habit.
Follow the breath because you know it is the path
to waking up in the company
of so many enlightened souls.

The way to get there
is to just let go
and drop
into joy.