Here I am, in this day,
in this project,
with no future to think of, beyond
it may rain this afternoon, beyond
we may get this house built sometime
Not sure of the purpose of future anyway,
with days as full as they are,
clouds coming in across the hills,
new mom turkey walking with her brood,
little nuthatch heard before sighted
flitting among the firs.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 5, 2019
Nobody’s life is a straight course —
they all have their crashes,
public and private,
they all have their changes,
complete uprooting
of what they thought was true
The various chasms
may not be seen
on the paper veneer
of a life’s facade,
but we can understand
they are there
Nobody’s life is a story,
however much we’re trained
to think they are —
our lives are more like trees,
branches broken, other ones grown in,
taking every path that puts forth green.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 3, 2019
It is a time of sturdy growth —
bracken fern at chest, head, height,
grass still green but growing purple heads,
tender bright new needles on the firs,
daisies lifting white across the fields
We, too, are feeling sturdy,
nourished by the land, the ground,
and by the care we give.
Some roots we never knew about
are taking hold,
making us steady, stable,
here where we live.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 2, 2019
I consider the faces of gratitude
and notice
they don’t include
a feeling of not deserving
what has been given,
though the gift is immense,
though I have longed for it
all the way down my memory
as far as I can see
When I see that I have it now,
I can’t say I shouldn’t want it,
or that I haven’t earned it,
or that I have.
Gratitude is exactly the price
for the beauty of my days.
©Wendy Mulhern
June 1, 2019
This could be one dream,
could be another
(as I awoke this morning
after saying “would you like a spoon?”)
—a setting, and some people,
and the day to day familiarity
of being — nothing high stakes,
nothing too emotional,
just the exchange of words
and the exchange of gifts
A place I put myself
no more or less
than putting myself here —
in this afternoon
of wind and trees and rest
and taking in what’s given,
taking it, and calling it what’s here.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 31, 2019
There is victory
in finding a way to work,
finding a way to work together —
the rhythm, the banter,
the settling in to tasks
that take two hands, and three,
and sometimes four
There is victory
when ways to get things done
open up, and what seemed impossible
becomes a set of steps that we can do,
getting better at them
as we go,
gaining in the strength to see things through.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 30, 2019
I will go up and possess this land,
I will not worry,
I will not be made to feel
like we are grasshoppers,
easy to crush by forces fierce and daunting
What I may be
in my own esteem
has no bearing at all
on prospects of success
The key is that I reckon
the source and will
that moves me
even as it moves everything
The key is that I go forth,
trusting and eager,
taking the steps with confidence
that, as long as I move forward,
I will be guided.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 29, 2019
I keep coming back to the words,
they keep reminding me,
they rise in thought
inviting me to take their meaning,
inviting me to stop everything
and go down deep
and let myself be fully realigned
The words keep coming back to me
like glimpses of beauty
and the sudden concentration of freshness
in the air — from what? from wind,
from sun? From the sweet breath
of trees and grass?
They come to me
like looking up and being amazed,
like seeing something that is always there
but now insists that I notice.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 28, 2019
These are our days,
this is what we’re doing —
there isn’t more
than the work at hand
and the strength that meets it
and the patience of
one task in front of the next,
taking the steps available
These are our days,
this is what we’re doing
as swallows dart around the site
and sun and clouds take turns
and the grass has grown silver tips
that sheen with shifting winds
and the garden is growing
much slower than our eager observation,
slow as our work
which will progress anyway,
in its own time.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 26, 2019
“give unto the Lord glory and strength”
It is rightfully called glory,
this internal exaltation,
this joy, this calm,
this shining out of
what I now experience as me
and know I don’t create it
Strength, as well, can truly be called given,
when I know this power
(which doesn’t come from me)
keeps welling infinitely,
supports me without end,
defines me as I use it
not to some grand end
that I have conjured up
but in the bright being
of eternal Soul.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 25, 2019