Pledge

We must do
everything better
than we did before,

devote our attention to
each word or glimmer
of sadness and of shame,
of sweetness and of fury,
and to all the holy voices.

Time to hold each stone
in our bare hands –
turn it over and over,
smell it, taste it
and feel the shape of it,

expose our skin to
the air of early morning,
let our fingers trace
the landscape
of the small hand
that walks beside us.

What revelation
in the boldness of a blue sky
and in the frost that gathers
at the edges of November
grass, where a deer,

still as the Buddha,
sits with eyes wide open
even as the season
turns to cold.

Be the Love

When the dust gathers,
sweep the floor,
when the soil dries,
water the plants,
when mouths are hungry,
bake the bread,
when fear rises up,
tuck in the children,
when you need to be heard,
listen,
when you need to know,
ask the question,
when it gets dirty,
wash the dishes,
when it gets dark,
throw back the curtains,
when nighttime falls,
greet the day,
if you cannot comprehend,
speak only the truth,
if the door closes,
open your palms,
if you lose your way,
walk the path,
if it is love you seek,
be the love.

Invitation

I would like to invite you into every place
I knew once

as a child, like songs, with lyrics too,
that lived inside

the nighttime chirp of crickets, or to stand at the edge
of the world,

our feet stained orange from sunset and the scales
of fishes,

we’d walk beneath the constellations
and later

draw them on our pillows so that our first two
fingers, lovers,

could sleep beneath. I want to find the secret
places again,

between the stones, and take you there.
The doorway

is partway open, an invitation,
my heart,

let’s go.

Tow Truck Song

Two long hours on the side of the road,
waiting for the man who will help me get towed,
the sun is shining through the windowpane,
I guess it’s high time to write a song.

If you were here, you’d be changing my tire,
and you’d be gritting your teeth like a real live wire,
instead I’m here laying down these words yet again,
and the towing man is coming along.

The road is long and the road is hazy,
and the trucks driving by are getting closer than crazy,
their big engines rattle in the back of my brain,
and the afternoon is gathering on.

And hey wait a minute there’s gold in the trees,
and the wide open windows spill a warm little breeze,
the way the clouds are gathering, it reminds me of rain.
They say the tow truck is ambling along.

Supposed to be somewhere, supposed to be there on time,
but now I’m killing hours on this long white line.
If I had to do it over I might do it again –
it’s the way you look at something makes it wrong.

So next time you’re sitting on the side of the road,
do something nice with your mind while you waits to get towed.
If you had to do it over you might do it again –
when you’re feeling right, it can’t be so wrong.