High in the mountains,
I wish I could
absorb the cold clear air,
soak up some snowmelt,
capture the rush of the wind
and the sudden quiet in the pause.
I wish I could
take all of this in
and carry it home
to the desert.
I’d invite over friends
and breathe out a cool wet breath
drop ice in their drinks
and let them put their heads
to my heart to hear
the thunder of waterfalls.
And each in turn would look into my eyes
at the light from the top of the world.
Cool, they would say,
Que cool. mjh
It’s strange
to rise from sleep
and feel that heaviness
as if returning to earth
after weeks in space
or is sleep
a graver world
pulling us down
as we struggle back toward light.
Don’t stew,
my saucy one,
for you have
spiced my life and
flavored my existence.
Together, we are
cooking up
the meal of a lifetime
in the Kitchen of Love. mjh
We planted this mimosa
when I turned 50.
Mom always said,
“every man should plant a tree
and raise a son.”
I’ve planted many trees
and this one started out
just right
the mantis in the branches
saying a benediction
But life has its own way
of moving forward
that sturdy little tree
seemed dead in spring
our hopes dashed
until new growth sprang up
from still lively roots
growing its own way
around and past the dead
With luck
I’ll play buddha to this banyan
beneath the birds
an old man nodding in its filtered shade
a book of poetry in my lap
a cold cuppa coffee by my side mjh
He checked his pocket for change and pulled out a poem. To his credit, he valued words more than money. The cashier smiled and asked, Do you want a receipt? Yes, please. She scribbled a response.
In this economy, words are coins but it’s how you arrange them that adds value, enriching poets and making editors investment counselors.
4/5/13
– – – – – [written for Poem in Your Pocket Day, 4/18/2013]
"It does not require a majority to prevail, but rather an irate, tireless minority keen to set brush fires in people's minds." — Sam Adams