Summer Solstice

honey moon
just like me
alone in its light…


the honey moon
rolls down her cheeks


evening breeze
the leaves of a maple
just let go


evening breeze the way it rolls sparrow song


wind through the trees
wave after wave
of ocean


mountain wind
I strum a tune
of ocean blues


mountain road
leading the way
a single bluejay


the monarch
that came to visit


first light of morning
an orchestra of bird song
tuning up treetops


azure sky
hummingbird and I
dance in rainbows


the way the sun sets
across her back

From Ireland

When I received the post card from you I was sitting at my desk flipping a pen between my fingers.  It was a foggy morning.  Between sips of bitter coffee, I watched a blue jay perched on an empty branch, his head darting in different directions. My computer screen was a white and gray blank on my grandfather’s oak desk.  I brushed my hair out of my eyes and pulled my robe tighter around my body.  A squeak of a hinge and the blue jay was gone.

At my front door, an array of white envelopes scattered the hardwood floor.  The one with your writing I picked up first:  “Real Ireland.”  I leaned against the door, smiling. A blast of warm air from a vent rushed over my feet.  I flipped the card over:  A lone farmer hoeing, and his dog, each looking in different directions.  Behind them a countryside of green and brown edges held by mountain slopes.  I glanced to a photo of us on the brick fireplace, embracing years ago.  You had just returned from India. You wore a bright pink sari and your face was decorated in bindis. I was still wearing my work uniform; a pressed blue suit and starched blouse. I wore little makeup.  Even then, I was always the worker; you had your sights set out into the world.

Returning to my desk I removed my robe and begin to type: the screen filled with many black letters. I sat for hours, while sunlight spilled across my fingers. Later, I stood and stretched, and moved slowly to the kitchen. Standing at the sink, I nibbled on cheese and bread.  I glanced out a small window-

In the sun

Each looking in different directions,

Two jays perched on a branch.