Sunday, January 28, 2024

Mist, fog and rains--poems after Ed Roberson




Mist-fine drizzles usher rains—damp pant-legs dry 


above the carpet and below the floor 


furnace works of wonder.



**



sometimes arboreal 

like our own     


roots   


of the leather fern plant 

mostly balance                  

        

the rest      we figure out



**



real revolution fully sees 

every act count all circumstance 


ever 


encounter-fuel 


for next steps closer where 

teachers and leaders number 


beyond counting



**



Existence    as we can know   it today is

January cold      atoms 


bunched     brittle and bone clear—


empty blue sky       pressing 


close     any skin 


dared bare.  



**



choreography memorized

isn’t music 


heard

necessarily—


to ask what a life        looks like


may lead us    


nowhere


true



**


a day, full

together into night


under a slice of moon-

holding sky-black


here scratched 

to quiet close



**



whatever stories we tell

of it or to it          


the day 

goes 


its way


never leaving us out     

nor behind:


and so the poet then 

might well tell      whatever 


words heard:


music moving 

breaths 


about and around 


day’s workings



**



what might be 


hinges what is 


sharpened 

in relief,


where we would be roots

where we are—  


for me,


fine layers of longing

for settled clarity bubbles 


warmth-worn confusions—


pre-paid cremation brings

with it settled     


closure realer than   


who dies 


then



**



The day at hand: muted


fog drifting 


light, cold 


fingers.



**



Note to self re: things forgotten


waiting during Covid: flowers


are not passive; even grass in night


dark never rests.



**



The squirrel skirts the top of the fence 

holding an avocado in its teeth,


till carefully tucking it under a vine tangle 

corner of memory all its own 


quiet calling—sitting 

here listening


to that ever-flowing tending 

needs 


I can’t begin 

to know,


offering

this.



**



seamlessly shifting 

puddle signals shrug


street light adjustments 

for breath-born eye avenues 


of negotiation for 

feet seeking alignments—


all enabled by air



**



Inked words run page lines

like gully-brush like 


creviced water-seep 

that rises petaled colors 


to grey sky-swell

wishing blue.



**



And I can’t help

thinking


how much so many 

words told 


the years missed,

millions 


of little move-notes 

sung to


too busied ears 


now ringing

so much 


clearer.



**



And if you don’t think

grasses and scrub


and trees run ridge lines

and ravines


and canyons

with coyote


and fox

and rabbit, just


open your eyes.



**



Rains pummel

early hour


light turning—


listening:


blanket warm

breathing 


given too.



**



neither right

nor wrong


things are

as they are


unfold

our living


true to itself

as is


tree to earth

forrest 


to sky-

reaching


both 

and all 



**



Soft light-wakes

left by night’s ceding strokes


nuance as no lover 

ever could—weightless


drawing forth of every 

all offered.



**



This month

January sighs so long

even the moon looses fullness

before its end, Best catch your breath 

here. February waits for no one.


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