Rodrigvitz Style

Lingering in Happiness

After rain after many days without rain,

it stays cool, private and cleansed, under the trees,

and the dampness there, married now to gravity,

falls branch to branch, leaf to leaf, down to the ground

where it will disappear-but not, of course, vanish

except to our eyes.  The roots of the oaks will have their share,

and the white threads of the grasses, and the cushion of moss;

a few drops, round as pearls, will enter the mole's tunnel

and soon so many small stones, buried for a thousand years, 

will feel themselves being touched.

early morning fog and instead of a Haiku by me...Lingering Happiness by Mary Oliver

Freshen the Flowers

Freshen the Flowers, She Said

so, I put them in the sink, for the cool porcelain was tender,

and took out the tattered and cut each stem on a slant

trimmed the black and raggy leaves, and set them all-

roses, delphiniums, daisies, iris, lilies,

and more whose names I don't know, in bright new water-

gave them

 
 
a bounce upward at the end to let them take

their own choice of position, the wheels, the spurs,

the little sheds of the buds.  It took, to do this,

perhaps fifteen minutes.

Fifteen minutes of music

with nothing playing.

Freshen the Flowers, She Said by Mary Oliver

BE Still

 

Inspired by Isabel....

KEEPING QUIET

Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.

For once on the face of the earth,
let’s not speak in any language;
let’s stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines;
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victories with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.

Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.

- PABLO NERUDA -