The Juggler's Waltz

Jugglers know the peace

Of pattern perfected

Loose from Time

After the rise,

     Before descent

          The balls pause— 

Suspended in nothing

No flames or burning bush

No carving in stone

To pull Order

     From air  


Sometimes they vanish,

Tracing paths here

      Then here

           Then here

The good juggler launches balls

Like prayers

Again and again

Higher this time

Playing catch

          With Eternity 

 

                                                 March 25, 2012

canto della marea

Brightening skies pull against sleep

Still rocking on the outbound tide

Yearning for the far beyond

All dreams, the land Original

And wild,

Where what we know began

And where knowledge will end

The still sleep rocking

On the outbound waves

Forgetful, washing clean

Accumulated thoughts dissolving

Reasons we might have had

To wake. 

Blueness stirring at the sleep

As the shifting sea reclaims the sand

Foam reaching fingers to gather shells

Of night

Assuring a clean day

Ready for the rhythm and footprints

Of feet running the beach.

The water restores us to land,

Our outward journey fades.

We can’t recall how we arrived

Or when, exactly,

Except that travels cease, eventually,

And where we empty our bags,

We call it “home”

To anchor ourselves against the outbound tide 

That at sunset stirs again,

Tugs against the day

We hold against the sleep

Where again we’ll forget

Why it is we wake. 

                                                                   March 21, 2012
                                                                   Falmouth

Breathe Sage

Respect assaults of climate

Upon lips, skin, and blinding of eyes.

Carry water.

The dry rattle could be cicada

Or snake.

Rocks don’t move.

Light, however, is variable.

Visit rocks frequently

For the play

Of color on stone—

  Tread upon transience;

Love its gallery.

  When the wild burros come

Listen for ghosts in caves.

  Find the handprints,

Spread your fingers to fit—

Paint your life

In petroglyphs.

Should it rain,

Breathe sage.

                                                                                  9/24/2011

                                                                                                             Notes for Amy