Perspectives

Each of us

views the world

with colored glasses..

the colors come

from a creative

splitting..

or some prefer

a filtering of

light..

When our colors

are matched

outside

we find our kin

when not

the other..

a gorgeous system

from a lighter

perspective...

Layers of Darkness

a perfect

superstorm

it is called..

rare hurricane

tides and arctic cold..

converging

constrictions to life..

anger  and blame

coloring

bitter divisions of 

political discourse..

meeting 2012 expectations

some say..

environmental neglect

say others..

are these dark layers

superficial
life on edge
masking new birth...?

Logwood

returning

to the place..

to remembered beds

and nourishing breakfasts..

home of

 our growing years..

this one nestled

in imponderable

Animas mountains..

these reflections 

of an autumn retreat

 now daily receding
into November bleak..

a white bench
vantage by streamside
afforded absorption of
the stream's flickering lights..
and later reflected
by a ridgeline full moon
decorating the dining..
life friends together
celebration and renewal
of many good years..

a white bench
also gathered reflections
from distant heights
where nighttime chills
painted evergreen and aspen
setting lanterns aglow..
the glow casting shadows
on the valley's red cliffs
those red markers of our
formative days..

a white bench
now gathered the sounds..
an old train's
whistled announcements
evening and morning..
a reminder of time
enclosed in this
valley of stillness
which we were favored
 knowing once more..

a white bench
gathered the guests
from distances afar..
their life glows
and shadows
in conversations revealed..
overlaying past
with present..
 end and beginning..
Logwood
we returned...

Destinations

Much in doing..

all the trip planning

detailed itineraries

of course, maps

without which

we are surely lost..

distances and times

contingency insurance..

What of all this

preparation..?

much effort dedicated

to here and there..

if we could

locate ourselves

on the roads between..

there we find

no places and times..

freedom arrives

ourselves the

destinations...

the strange

pick the strange

the absurd

investigate that

we are advised..

this advice

applied to questions

both of science

and of spirit..

advice for life..?

the strange

seems illusive..

commonplace often

on a returning glance

now most strange..     

the strange

we then assume

must be another

name of creation..

our health and fire

renewed with each

new glance...

A quote by physicist, John Archibald Wheeler:  "In any field, find

the strangest thing and then explore it."

halloween

this day

ending October..

 fun for all

most of all children..

before the day passes

we might take 

a new look at

that adventurous phrase:

trick or treat..

first the treat

says joy and light

but what of the 

trick..?

an opposition of sorts

perhaps the treat's

inseparable shadow..

so even in this

celebration for youth

evening and morning

make their debut...

slumber

a question 

of our time

it seems..

are we in slumber..?

Is this

a failure of 

distinction..

gray boring blends..?

Or..

does our slumber

rest on

stark distinctions

organic explosions

expressed flesh and blood..?

What if..

this frame and wheels

assembled and with

waking motion--

a strong push
this wagon given..

along a path

toward the light...?

October

a photo of

October..

suggests colors of

Our breathing..

an exhalation

as creation seen..

the rainbow

prismatic surprises of

metaphor and promise..

and now

Especially now

in October

colors glow

in dying...

the second choice

A retelling of

A story

which is often retold..

in young romance

It happens

but not only there..

an infatuation

A leap

sudden Enlightenment

new birth..

a departure from

the ordinary..

Then a discovery

life is larger..

the ordinary seems

Ruling

seems dreary and stark..

even though

there is great love

Holding the dark...

Inspired by a Theodore Dreiser story with the same title...

Naming

Might we avoid

naming

For a brief moment..

Perceiving without naming..

then

when the name comes

as it always does

Might it be found

in our perceptive light..?

A new whole-ness

to begin our day..?

Mirrors

Some believe..

others seem to know..

there is..very close

another dimension

we are enclosed

within..

if so

does a mirror

this new identity

show..?

A simple mirror

glass with black back..

but other combinations

may be preferred..

light and darkness

our sky and our earth

 these such oppositions..

and one more:

Does our mirror

both project and reflect..?

That we are

such a mirror

there's a special effect..

without our dark side

transparent we are..

shattering our glass

a black hole

of a sudden appears

absorbing not reflecting

our hidden light..

Might we now realize

each of us owns

our special share

of the dark..?

that our glass 

is un-shattered

is liquid and still..?

connecting all in

the light it projects

and we with joy

from our darkness

reflect...

The Old Halltree

much life observed..

its mirror

has reflected

over a century of faces..

a covered wagon

climbing Allegheny gaps.. 

arriving now

in its present station

decorated each season..

 now dressed awaiting

costumed children

with their bags 

of treats..

it has not always

reflected

joy and celebration

undoubtedly many sorrows

its mirror was shown..

taken for granted

many stored muddy boots

hats soaked with sweat..

a chair holding

warm garments

during cold winters past..

a mirror

must have a

dark back side

for its job of reflecting..

this mirror's darkness

composed of 

wet mud and dry dust

the wood encrusted with

 deposits of earth..

sorrow and pain

these layers are there..

darkness and glass

formed the mirror

we see..

reflecting 

the sun of mornings

as wagon wheels turned..

and quite soon

the laughter of children

on this Halloween..

Raindrops on a Windshield

she asked:

are there words

hiding in raindrops

waiting to be born..?

their life expectation

was really quite short

awaiting only

the swipe of

a windshield wiper..

Some special drops

her camera captured

in one of those

dissolving moments..

one small drop

glimmered with

a pure white light

others angled with

curved prism color..

white and colors

created

but soon destroyed

by those ever 

persistent and ruthless  

blades..

this play of light

we might reflect

paints our portrait

on a canvas of glass 

those colors with white

body and soul

together

life and death

so temporary

yet so significant..

because of awareness

our awareness makes

it so...

Compassion

A light within

is dimmed

when compassion

looks elsewhere

for a home..

Our going forth 

is tethered

to a light

we have and own..

Remembering

Returning

Replenishing

is the splendid core

of compassion..

Then we are

fed and ready

for compassion

to find its way

away from home...

The Web

We are no doubt

each of us

entangled..

entangled in darkness

and in light..

Suffering arrives

with the illusion

that these are

separate entanglements

or that

they are not...

falling leaves

we know 

that falling leaves

speak of death
in a season..

then we wonder

are we falling 

as  the leaves..

falling also with
 autumn beauty..?

we see veins 

in each leaf

circulation channels..

 nourishment

no more flowing from

a nurturing tree..

a branch from its

root now cast away..
and we wonder

where is our

root as our 

nourishment fades..?

similarities abound

we and the leaves..

 fearful we are

with our hidden root..
yet we wonder

have we found
 vision and courage..
beholding anew

 creation's falling beauty

light's filtered colors...?

Timberlines

this is an autumn
treeline reflection..
stark edges
demarcations of
minerals and trees..
a reminder of
other dividing lines..
as when we hear
strange notes of the
coyote's scream..
Are there other
lines to be found..?
Where are our inner
shadows and lights
so precisely bound..?

below treeline
golden aspens glow
out-lined and brightened
by the forest's black..
other glistening lights
mark rippling streams..
Meanwhile--
the cowboy poet
renders joyful lines
of wholeness
embracing all such
lights..
and timberlines...