Made for TV

It was only an old TV show. 

It showed me a plain 

that I longed for. 

desperately hot, 

hot winds that sculpt the sand, 

sparse cacti, 

tough plants 

    cling to scant shade. 

amazing broad blue sky 

where a burning hot sun reigns. 

black star studded velvet sky at night.

sands magically covered in vegetation

when clouds and rains roll in. 

Of course it was only a TV show, 

polished and stunning for the camera. 

My dreams are something very different.

“When you’re in the desert, you look into infinity….It makes you feel 

terribly small, and also in a strange way, quite big.”

~ David Lean, Film Director

(1908 ~ 1991)

The Biggest of Lies

When you know 

that the sun will always shine, 

the wind will always blow 

whether your life 

spins out of control or 

is as placid as a lake on a summer’s day, 

you will also know that your heart 

will let your spirit and soul soar 

despite the naysayer’s surrounding you. 

And when one of those naysayers is

your own voice

telling you all that you can’t do 

let your spirit and your soul 

guide the way past that biggest of lies 

to the facts that are true.

“The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes 

to such a pass that he cannot distinguish the truth within him.”

~ Fyodor Dostoevsky, novelist

(1821 ~ 1881)

Missing Something

Clothes from the dryer, 

soft and clean ~ 

missing something. 

Always missing 

the fresh scent of 

hanging on the line 

in the wind. 

The funny dents from 

wooden clothes pins. 

Automatic washers and dryers 

part of a home are invaluable, 

but always ~ missing something.

“For everything you have missed, you have gained something else,

 and for everything you gain, you lose something else.”

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson, essayist

(1803 ~ 1882)

Without Definition

Trust is without definition. 

It is the colour of water 

   in its vastness, 

iron grey ~

  troubled by rain clouds or 

clear blue ~ reflecting 

   sun and moving cloud, 

shades of green ~

   at the shoreline where trees 

  bend to caress the water,

~ or capped by lacy froth 

       on a windy day.

Our only definition grows 

  from the details of our lives

lessons from those we grew up with until 

  our own definition blossoms 

a definition that is confident and sure.

But trust remains without definition and 

  yet with a form we feel in our gut.

“To have faith is to trust yourself to the water. 

When you swim you don’t grab hold of the water, 

because if you do you will sink and drown. 

Instead you relax, and float.”

~ Alan Wilson Watts, British philosopher

(1915 - 1973)

An August Memory

 

Cool evening rain-washed air

Wind slowed to a whisper

Gentle remnants of a rainy day.

“August rain: the best of the summer gone, and 

the new fall not yet born. The odd uneven time.”

~ Sylvia Plath, poet

(1932 ~ 1963)

Awakening

Not awake yet 

shuffling through 

the sludge of sleep, 

walking and talking 

until 

movement shook me 

gently awake 

dregs of sleep drifting 

like the heat of the day 

settling into the trees 

as the sun slips 

   

   down and down 

to the horizon 

  

   painting the land in 

deep yellows and golds. 

With the soft breath 

  

  of a cooling wind, 

I walk on.

“Rise up nimbly and go on your strange journey.”

~ Rumi

Strong Winds

The chaos in and around 

  city 

   town or 

     country 

like strong prairie winds 

 that push aside 

  all the growing things 

   uprooting some, but 

have no purchase on roots 

  reaching deep,

   growing strong 

     to nourish us tomorrow.

“Chaos is the score upon which reality is written”

~ Henry Miller, writer

Once a Tomorrow

A wide open door 

birds fill the trees 

with chirps and song

a dog barks in the neighbourhood

a car shushes past 

Fernando plays on the radio 

backed by gentle strum of a lute 

the aroma of barbecue drifts

trees wave in the wind 

clouds ride high and thin ~

today was once a tomorrow.

“Finish each day and be done with it. 

You have done what you could. 

Learn from it… tomorrow is a new day.”

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson, essayist

(1803 ~1882)