Paper Leaves

Last night
the wind came, swept beneath
all thoughts I had
of holding on.

And so it goes,
we all must fall,
the ground looks different
from up here.

You danced across
the window, dear,
behind the pane,
though not alone.

And now it seems
so long ago
I watched you open
toward the sun.

I can’t remember
how it felt
to be so green,
to be so young.

We’re changed,
not what we used to be,
we’re somehow lighter,
paper leaves.

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Drive

We drive
to where we are needed.
These cars,
they deliver us
alone
or with the ones we love,
to places
of small miracles ~
to a conversation
that unwinds your memory
on the spool
of an evening,
to a triangle of peak standing black
against the purple dusk
like a secret,
to a pearl wire of headlights,
of which you are now one,
with your music
and your thoughts
and your bags packed with
Monday’s laundry
as you drive toward the sea of city,
or to the river,
one hand out the window,
one hand on the wheel.

When There is No Sense to be Made

When there is nothing left to do,
let the sunshine become your upturned face
for one more moment.

Hug her with all your arms,
stop to kiss his face,
look into their eyes

for longer than you would have yesterday.
Listen to music,
make music,

reach your hands
as high as they will go toward the heavens
and stretch your heart

to the sky.  Then draw
your hands down to your own
sweet heart.  Bow,

or pray, or listen,
or simply love.  Share the water.
Soften your voice, open

your ears.
Make tea.  Sit beside the river.
Laugh, or cry,

or do whatever it is that you need to do,
as long as it is
real.  The world needs you

to be real.
Let all of the old you’s walk out
through the open door.  Be

the hands of the lover,
a child’s face,
the teakettle that hums.

 

 

Marcellina

The first time you saw her,
you had to lay down
your body beside
Marcellina.

She holds you inside
her dark folds and white blankets,
the mountain, she stands,
Marcellina.

And under the midnight
woven with stars,
a truck sleeps beneath
Marcellina.

It rains until morning
as mist wraps its legs
around a lake lost,
Marcellina.

And in the soft sunrise
before the first frost,
a canopy gold,
Marcellina.

And just when you tell her
your heart will not go,
she tells you the same,
Marcellina.