is that a dinner bell?

 

and it was Mary Oliver

speaking directly to me!

her voice was full of blessings

and insight

about life and love and light

and darkness, too, like a bowl of the blackest chocolate fudge

eaten spoonful by spoonful by a curious man 

biding his time inside his prison cell.

oh, but do tell,

is that a dinner bell

i hear?

yes, Mary Oliver is making mention

that i need to pay attention 

to the brighter light in a certain direction, so

i have time to linger, wondering about my little finger

and how it attaches perfectly with my left & right hand

when i pet my dog or comb my hair.

i notice everything is simultaneously here and there!

the simple fact of focus upon my speeding moment:

is sufficient for the infant

and the young boy and the man

and the older fellow filling his bird feeder with oiled, black sunflower seeds

while the noisy chickadees bide their time, watching attentively.

and nearby Elizabeth sips her wine slowly with smiling eyes, pools of promise 

shimmering beyond the calm waters of a lake filled with ever-expanding infinities.

I hear a Pink Floyd song and imagine kissing her lips in rhythm to the bright side of the moon circling

around the Earth, remembering the constant push and pull of a tender tidal embrace;

remembering, too,  a yard of grateful gardens and bountiful fertile fields of joy;

the laughter of a child swinging from a strong braided rope 

tied above a deep creek's pool in a neighboring meadow; 

the splash and the bubbles and the delicious feel of cool water on skin,

laughter and riotous splashing everywhere.

it's a very important day, right here and right now.

this second passing.

a new second, also passing.   here it is.  and again.

again. 

it's only a short walk to the end of the boardwalk,

walking atop the boardwalk,

and under the boardwalk there are songs.

sing songs. 

i'm not ready to dismount my bike, whose tires are always spinning like a distant galaxy 

and they are comfortably filled with air.  my chain is cleaned and well-lubricated.

the road ahead is endless.  the invitation to play is signed, sealed, and delivered.

and so it goes.  and so i ride. 

a train whistles.

a baby cries for her seat; everyone makes room, moving and watching protectively.

we all have sufficient time.

we all feel.

we all love.

and my love shares her wine with me and i admire her spirit of sharing,

as i sip. 

she also feeds the noisy chickadees.

what i thought was happening then and now is a constant unfolding,

as we fold our lives together like the petals of a beautiful flower,

and the ultimate message is, like a dinner bell ringing,

to focus on life. 

a hummingbird

with a hat wreathed in flowers
and after energetic sex on the floor 

near the water garden
under an open sun shaped like a satisfied vagina

the woman felt relaxed
holding a large cigarette in her mouth.
reading Dionysos
while wet sand pushed and throbbed between her toes

the lady felt the heat of July
little by little
draw salty beads of perspiration
into wavy lines
on her wet skin.

in a loose-fitting towel
and barefoot
in a quiet way
she looked at herself in a handheld mirror

and saw a hummingbird fly from a wire cage.

at last light

i held my gun at last light
aimed it at a mad man at my door
and after his untimely death
i found him on the floor
i removed all his clothes
and now no one knows
when the morning sun comes
which way my shadow goes

i went down to Mexico
you came looking for me
what you found was nobody
i lost myself at sea
nothing much there grows
and now no one knows
when the morning sun comes
which way my shadow goes

i imagined late one night
you would find me in my chair
it was a hard place to be
when you looked i wasn't there

the wind always blows
and now no one knows
when the morning sun comes
which way my shadow goes

it's you that i now miss

it was a time before television
or radio was perfected

when poetry was important
the words and phrases dissected

seriously contemplated,
simply stated
like the dandelion seeds
without philosophical creeds
released freely into the air

blown happily everywhere

into currents they swiftly rode
nothing else showed
no hiking signs or spiritual pointers
no businessman who loiters
on his busy trail

without fail

the wooden bridge spans
this clear creek where we hold hands
and kiss

a special angel
with wings joining our hearts

is this how it starts?
i wonder

torn asunder 

with wildness
and scents of bliss

it's you that i now miss.

color me blue

i can't find you

hiding within gardens and trash
perhaps full of hurt & pain
empty of cash

but full of sun & rain

i want to have eyes
reflecting me
on honest secondary streets

fancy free

musical beats

i want to feel love
in a forever kiss
or later tonight
with sublime happiness

without the cat fight
listening to songs
between the lines
i'm looking for you

reading zodiac signs

so color me blue
i can't find you