We watched the fog
come in over the hills
and then swallow them.
We saw how it banked around
to fill the valley in. It took the fields,
but not the closest trees,
and then, itself, was swallowed by the dark.
©Wendy Mulhern
November 17, 2023
After the sun has gone,
trees share their secrets –
luminescence garnered from the day,
green growth that rustled in the wind
now still
In this between time before the crickets,
they offer depth and height and silence –
qualities for us to borrow
when we have need.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 30, 2023
Day fades,
shadows gather under shelves,
light still bathes the evening sky,
the moon upon its long watch.
Cats grow active,
moths against the window
safe from paws,
travels have landed us –
here we are.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 8, 2022
Early evening rain sings down the gutters
and into the tank,
trees and garden stretch tall and strong and happy,
We have done well –
we finished our tasks before the shower,
we have earned our companionship
and our easy rest.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 5, 2022
It’s easy to find beauty
at the soft end
of these soft wet days,
to think fondly of lullabies
and summoning a household peace,
gently combing out the tangles
of fear and worry, smoothing them away
Late sun comes out pink under the clouds,
rain still trickles off the roof
and out the overflowing tank,
reflections of inside lights
hover above the garden as we
put April to bed for another year.
©Wendy Mulhern
April 30, 2022
Consider the state
of not needing to say anything,
just hearing the sounds of the day
collected now in memory – conversation
and the whir of various instruments.
Memory, too, of how the sun warmed the air,
and brought out the scent of earth
And there were true things to communicate
but no sense of need
to be seen or understood,
and now there is the imprint
of having spoken,
but no further purpose for the words.
After all, it’s not my role
to make a story of the day –
I fall in, like creek into river,
tributary to Spirit alone.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 6, 2022
What my phone’s camera does with the sky
may be nice,
but it doesn’t capture
that subtle conversation
between the soft blue-gray clouds
and the distant green-gray firs,
and the tinge of pink
where the sky touches down
And it can’t capture
how still it is, all of a sudden,
as the distant crows pause their racket
and there’s no car trekking down
the long surrounding road
Still enough to invite thunder
and maybe even rain,
unlikely but welcome
to sketch its verticality
all down the scene.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 30, 2021
I had decided
it was too dark outside
and too hot inside
to put the date on the page,
to wait, to try to find a poem
while the deepening sky
kept showing more colors
long after the sun had set
and the crickets – well,
they sang as if
I hadn’t already written about them,
and the thrush in the distance
stopped after a while,
but the cricket cadences
with their polyrhythms
kept the song going
and the evening breeze came
in time for us to sleep.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 26, 2021
As easy as the transformation
into evening, accompanied by thrushes,
when the wind stills
and the sun releases its grip,
slipping gracefully behind the hills,
and small zephyrs of coolness
lace through the air
As easy as that has been
our transformation into togetherness,
when the traffic of our daily cares
has softened into something calmer
and the breath of forgiveness
sweetens the place we share.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 13, 2021
The page is blank as evening settles in,
my pen marks are still visible,
but not the words
I sit here in the glaze
of tiredness and satisfaction,
waiting for the images to sketch the day
I have the pleasure
of being kind to bees,
and holding kind thoughts
towards everyone I can imagine –
in my mind, I stand up for their sovereignty,
I send encouragement
for their enlightened clarity
And here at home
we have a new peace,
new ease in our communication –
this is what’s given,
and I will take it freely,
this taste of heaven
in the last glow of the day.
©Wendy Mulhern
July 9, 2021