Bear

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Bear belly crawls out of her den
limbs heavy with winter lassitude
paws her way up through rootball, fieldstone, clay
two wide-eyed young nudge her flanks:
this bright new world is safe?

She noses the air
examines numerous scent trails
wild garlic, beetle larva, dead deer
food sources for her depleted body

Too many options

For a moment she sits and basks
black coat a magnet for a patch of sunlight
The muffled thrum of her own heartbeat—
sole companion under the snow—
quickens now with the sap pulsing through green wood
and the call of the cardinal from the top of the maple

She shakes her head, sending dust flying
swats away the young nuzzling for a teat
sways to all fours and sets off
pushing through briars
burrs catching in her winter fur
April wind cutting a ruff around her neck

She leaves a path of scuffed loam and flattened leaves in her wake.

Celts!

My darling daughter turned 21, and I got the great pleasure of treating her to a week in London. Of the many highlights, here are a few.

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Taking photos of graffiti near Waterloo bridge. Getting a kick out of reading the names on the subway map & recognizing so many of them from pop culture
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IMG_2902Playing tourist and checking out the locals.

Cramming in as many amazing exhibitions as our eyeballs and feet would allow.


Being Irish I thought I had a clue about the Celts, but this exhibition was an eye opener in more ways than one.

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Worn out!

Only through a bloody miracle and some marginally immoral behavior did we catch  our flight for a quick visit back to the West of Ireland. She was looking mysteriously celtic!

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Clew Bay, Co. Mayo

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Lough Carra Floods

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A small gem of sunshine

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Mother and daugher

RECLAIM

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. . . and then I returned
to the comforting leak of the pantry light

across the kitchen floor
reclaiming the hearth

the carved out space
to creep beneath, inhabit

the familiar echo off the walls
a hum, deep inside me

a coming to earth
solid weight

nestling into the embrace
of the small green chair

sinking back into the habitual
flow, feeling it wash over me

through winter chilled glass
reimagining myself with

familiar landscape
owl moon, blue shadows on snow

car headlights tossing snowflakes
shattering my silence from below.

How much light in a winter sky

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How much light in a winter sky!
the subtlety of mauve and rust and slate

heavy-bellied clouds floating
like seasoned bathers in a cold sea

each dwindling moment of olive oil light
caught in the wick of a seed of grass

chest-breaching call of the gulls
the lake surface a battered pewter plate

bouncing back the cupped light
medieval in its splendor
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Small Gift

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One small gift from the universe
an unintended consequence
benefiting the giver, taker
one momentary thread of spider
web light suspending
judgment, exhaling
in one single tonal breath
body heat, one giant synchronized
joining of hands, shared
pulse resonating, thrumming
the fat base string
under your thump, thumping
heart beat one.
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