#Inktober2019:Freeze

Cold Weather Freeze

Winter slips under
The door—around my shoulder
and leaves a cold veil

#Inktober2019:Bait

     Fishing in a Mountain Stream

We made bait with Wonder bread

balls rolled through ground garlic 

and then piled into plastic bags

ready for a morning of fishing—

in a stream running full

Five boys scattered — looking

forward to a perfect fishing spot—

a place to catch Small Mouth Bass,

Sunfish or maybe even Rainbow Trout

I sat on a stream rock

with a pole made of a broken branch

and a fishing line tied to one end,

a garlic ball on a hook at the other end

One of the older boys offered to remove

the hook if any fish bothered to bite

I watched the spots of light on the water,

the way the current moved a twig downstream

and the wavy pattern of fish swimming

I listened to the sound of water

traveling over rocks

and the sound of fish being thrown in a pail

for an evening meal 

#Inktober2019: Mindless

Only Sold Online

     Never in the Store

Pursuit of mindless 

new gadgets leads to hollow

and barren clutter

#Inktober2019 Ring

                                                              

A tree divulges age—

counting each concentric dark

ring as a year. With old age 

her branches soften, mushroom 

spores grasp her trunk, rain

pulls bark away — discarding

it without a replacement

So too my age reveals itself

with a mesh of lines— wrinkles

expose my years. Veins thread

their way up and down my legs, 

reminders of time past. 

Years move along,

dropping reminders along the way.

#BlogElul29: Return

Looking Backwards

    To See Ahead

                    “Teshuvah at its best, 

                      is about seeing how we missed the mark.”

                            The Velveteen Rabbi

I return to last year

turning it over, spreading it out

underlining places that felt

out of kilter, undone, put aside—

forgotten or altered 

Oh those plans, those dissonant

conversations where words

needed clarity instead of 

ambiguity, where thoughts were

left in silence. So now I return

to those places with resolve 

I seek out some people

to ask their forgiveness

I remind myself to do more

than expend words on social ills

I know —prayers also need footsteps

Oh dear Lord

I tiptoed where I needed to walk boldly

On this birthday of the world

I give thanks for Your Creation—

its colors and shapes, sounds

as quiet as the humming bird’s wings

as noisy as waves crashing onto the shore

This is the time of Teshuvah,

the time to begin anew.

#BlogElul 28: Give

Give the People Words

I will read Torah

and hear the stories anew

as a gift of love

#BlogElul27:Bless

No Training Necessary

You don’t need set words 

or someone else’s prayer 

to offer a blessing

You need a soul filled

with abundance 

with the desire to open

up and let the Spirit 

move through you—

let the words pour out

If you ask who am I to bless

and how do I bless, I say

Look around 

Plenty people waiting

Maybe someone’s even

waiting to bless you

#BlogElul 26: Create

Nature Creates a Fibonacci Number

My collages

made from bits of paper

on repurposed yellow ledgers

attempt new narratives 

Origami papers, 

provide a backstory

where design rules are upended

unlike the spirals of  sunflower seeds

which follow a given pattern

Sunflower after sunflower

#BlogElul25: Change

Upon Reflection

I explore change

Nibble the edges

Taste its underbelly

Walk onto a veneer

of thawing ice 

and proceed with caution

#BlogElul24: Hope

  Another Definition of Hope

 If I didn’t know that the roses

bloom again next spring

or that the just planted sapling

fills out and the days extend 

to include more light

If I didn’t know that the ending 

contains a beginning and everything

is a migration from the known to unknown

If I didn’t know—then doubt

might root itself and grow

#Bolg Elul 23: Begin

In the Moment

to begin this year

with a  clean slate and a gift

of a new blessing

#BlogElul 22: End

 The End is Often Sudden

I read old

postcards from places

I only knew from an atlas

Scraps of paper with lines of poetry

half digested thoughts and bits of songs

play around in my memory

Recollections of paintings 

done with a palette knife

on stretched canvases—the look of 

“abstract expressionism”

remain on an easel

After so many years I recall

three legged races

whipped jello

too many hot dogs served

on toasted buns

and fireflies caught in jars

I recall a kite flying close

to the sun when the string snapped 

and it plunged into the ocean

And then time moved beyond—

A book with chapters 

Each chapter adding a layer to the whole

Some of the role players only

live in memories

Others have moved on

and have their own books

where I may play a small role 

To begin something 

always carries the burden of an ending—

often semi- sweet, other times a relief

I

#BlogElul 21: Love

The Song of Songs Replayed

When you know your heart

and you savor the sweetness

of your lover’s face

#BlogElul 20: Fill

Soul Music

I fill myself up

with the sweet sounds of praying

and begin to sing

#BlogElul 19: Speak

Between God and Yette

God and my grandmother 

talked to one another 

She shared her life 

as if God was our neighbor

I remember one  day 

she spoke about her bunion 

and the place her shoe rubbed

her foot red raw 

She didn’t ask for any relief

or a pair of new shoes 

She spoke to God the

same way she talked

 to her friend Mrs Ruben

When the woman who lived

upstairs lost her husband 

my grandmother asked God

to keep an eye on her,

to keep her company

She understood loneliness

as a companion to the widow

When I asked her about her prayers

“ I don’t pray,” she said

“I just speak to God”