In small steps
we move toward cozy,
nestling batts between the studs,
walls filling in wooly
We dream of rugs and tapestries,
a wood stove,
some comfy chairs, some source of light,
friends in for tea on rainy evenings,
a little loft where we can spend the night
We dream, we work,
and it appears
as well is must
for we are makers —
more powerful than we have known.
We work, we trust,we make it happen,
we hold the vision and it comes to us.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 6, 2016
The closing inward
happens in front of everyone,
shows itself as brown, or red, or gold —
this surrender reveals the inner essence
with the unconscious grace
of truth
So it is
when harsher days
force us to abandon all pretext,
the unpretentious brightness
that we have no strength or attention
to hold back
simply shines
without our even knowing
We color,
we fall,
we turn —
so we are seen,
so we are known.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 5, 2016
My mind settles down.
The things I had been thinking through,
though interesting, have ceased to chatter.
I find I have no need to draw conclusions
From where I am, I watch, I choose —
I tell myself when ways of feeling
may not be the best use of my being.
I don’t need to feel sad
and I don’t need to feel worried
It’s much better to hear the hum of evening
and the calm continuance
of all the breathing,
and to know that I, too,
fulfill what’s needed,
in thought and presence,
in time and place.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 3, 2016
No need to be nostalgic for my past,
however lovely photos say it was.
My life is ever here, in the placing
of feet on wet grass, in clouds sifting
between the trees, in the smell of sun
after the morning rain
My life is here, in sitting together
cutting and peeling apples,
joining in a task without asking
or being asked, just because
our hands know what to do
My life is here
in waiting out storms,
in holding the peace, in offering calm,
in giving clear direction as I see it.
I’m learning to put myself to good use
in the small and steady way
of every living thing,
essential member in the web
we weave together,
the web we all need,
that needs us all.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 2, 2016
The rain was gone as quickly as it came,
but not for long. You could hear it first
on the far hills, as it made its way
down to the valley, and swept up
through grass and trees.
There was sun across the field
and a rainbow behind the dark firs,
and there were sparkles in the needles.
Again and again it came around.
Sometimes we were racing against it,
sometimes we were waiting it out.
Sometimes we were content with our condition,
sometimes less so.
We tracked a lot of mud onto the porch.
We made mistakes, corrected them,
discovered problems, fixed them,
in contrast and in counterpoint
to all the day’s moods
Brightened, towards the end,
by gifts of color, friendship, sustenance,
we came in from our labor satisfied.
©Wendy Mulhern
October 1, 2016
We start to know time
by different signs —
When the crickets get louder
and the turkeys make their afternoon rounds,
there are three more hours of daylight
and dusk will come soon
The work we started
when the day was wide and hopeful
now looms against the light’s boundary
like the shadows that now stretch
across the valley
We stop when it’s too dark to see
and evening’s light show awes us
with its ever-different glory.
Time to pause
and let gratitude rise from within,
about two hours before the stars begin.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 30, 2016
When you find
the poise with which to hold yourself
and the wide laughter opens up
in your chest
and the whole day rushes in
with each breath,
vistas and light gifts
making you happy
You will do what you can
to hold onto it.
If you lose it, you’ll keep trying
to find it again
and you will,
for it belongs to you
more than years and years
of constricted habits.
It is your right
to move in all your power,
it is your nature
to own your day.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 29, 2016
Because we are dearly loved,
we haven’t been left
to wander through this dream alone.
The guiding signs have been written
in the pattern of ferns,
in the movement of clouds
They have been placed
in the throats of birds,
irresistible for them to sing,
They have been given to us in scents
and in the breath of winds
And set down, too, in words
which, though in dream state
we may think of as commandments,
are ways for us to fathom
what we are,
these truths that, when we keep them,
anchor everything,
and with their clearing focus
wake us up.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 28, 2016
You can’t even begin
to sort through the layers
of hurt, mistakes,
attempts at compensation,
of slights and their reactions,
things taken and the gaping holes they leave
But maybe you can put in a little seed
and let the rain seep down
and let mycelium colonize,
and perhaps a little plant
will grow up through it all,
strong and clean and straight
and none of the past will matter
as life asserts itself once again,
perfect as ever,
conquering all.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 27, 2016
This is heart country
and everyone here has their tender places,
everyone has the deep hollows
they can get lost in,
and if you step in them you sink way down
Walk easy
for this is heart country,
home of breaks and bruises
and of grateful, boundless love.
All who have hearts can see each other
if their eyes are open
Tread carefully, for each heart is different
and the paths to understanding
have many false turns,
but if you keep your own heart clear
you’ll find the steps
that lead you ever inward
to the common hearth.
©Wendy Mulhern
September 26, 2016