It is a contented lipity lap
with which the pages of the day
fall layered and random
in my thought – the talking on the phone,
efforts to integrate new things
into the household order,
planning for a gathering a few days hence,
neglecting chores
And gratitude, although I had no urge to force it,
rose like sun-drenched clouds
through moments in my day,
arresting skys commanded my attention,
rays and colors couldn’t help but draw forth praise.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 25, 2021
1.
Some trees will be happy
with what I’ve done,
some may be already dead –
things I do in time, or not in time,
things I don’t do enough, or do too much,
maybe one or two things just right
2.
I started thinking about my dreams,
how even keeled they are,
while full of travel and new places
and old places and the things I’m doing,
and I thought, it’s good to be even keeled,
but why not happy? Why not filled with joy, exultant?
Or why not deeply moved, or touched with haunting music?
3.
The swallows chatter outside, excited about their nest.
We are excited, too, eager to see their new family emerging.
The late sun sifts across the field.
There’s a sock in my lap.
No conclusion.
©Wendy Mulhern
May 31, 2020
Hard walking, this,
as among the rolly stones along the beach —
worse, for sharp edges reach to snag,
and mire beneath them
is often quick, and my foot
sinks down unexpectedly,
and no step can be sure
But I will keep walking,
I will not stop for
all the cluttered claims of pain
or the searing cold of sudden doubt
of things I’d held so sure
This much is clear —
The act of moving is itself a strength,
and little joys still shine
from unexpected places,
and the investment over many years
of what I work to carry —
attention, faith, discipline —
will pull me through.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 8, 2014