Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

As soft as a lilac; as sweet as spring, as beautiful as morning dew Lilacs in the Conserancy Gardens, Central Park

New life under the rotting leaves pulses out to seed the earth again. Is there no termination of this terrifying transitory life? Is there truly not enough to go around? Do we have too many cherry blossoms? Can we afford to throw them off into the trampled mud with the first new migratory robin? Can't it wait, that pallid summer, hanging from a threaded limb?             Yes, it's been hiding in that crack all winter!         

It’s just a shadow after all, but I had the sun, I knew the moon, I owned a grey wall full of maps, A hankering to travel.  I had a star one time, but I cannot recall the color. Today crashed into me again, with sweet wind and a sun-swept sidewalk, stinging my hands like ice, Sucking me out through a black day-hole, Shifting into ecstasy.

In the back of my closet is a secret tunnel. It’s a passage meant for seekers, Fizzing, bubbling, and spinning down through the quarky nuclei of time. I often watched them swimming towards that nano-second slit. Not me, though; I had too many here who loved me, or so I supposed. And I was dizzy with life,  Smelling horses and leather saddles, Smelling dry timber and wet growing twigs, Smelling pine needles in the early morning.   And I was afraid of the dark.    I carry an inner lamp these days, with some crumpled money and silver coins.      There’s a cloud covered moon tonight I am told, And there’s nobody knows how deep it goes.  And I'll go along with the ride.

A billion beautiful blossoms are at their peak.  Why do I believe I see every one as precisely as a dream?

This is one of the first Yoshimo Cherry blossoms of the season.  She is so excited to open in the western sun that she is willing to suffer from overexposure. 

I’ll go you one better! He said, and tossed in a day of his own. I saw why he raised me; the day was a snappy one, up early, hit the roaring playing fields, happy after dinner treats. I’ll call, said I, and threw in one of my best. A cool morning, sun barely up, afternoon with needles crunching in the dry mountains, evening honeysuckles I’ve two races won, sweet aftershave and a golden trophy ring, said He. I guess I’m losing this one then, I said. I’ve a room of my own with candle wax and soft shadows in the moonlight.  April, 2008

I’ll save some time for inter-global connectivity. I promise. Let’s see, we’ll pencil in a zone. I Promise. Vowels and consonants. Says who? Let’s pull up that stake and call it a day.  Beauty in the Conservancy Garden, October 2010

Look! There’s a painted leaf. Look! A gilded limb among the green ones. Fall, fall, the beauty of it all is so distracting! I ought to lean along the old fence of pale memories, But I am so excited! I ought to dwell among the flakes of old lost chances, But I just saw a woodpecker! I’m supposed to contemplate the decomposing ends of things, But I just remembered skipping! Oh dear, I’m at a loss of how to dread the days. My mind keeps slipping on a polished daydream, Straight to the crisply apple-buttered gourds; The red, ripe berries, Fresh tomatoes, corn and pumpkins, Pies and apples, tarty stuffing, That conscientious fall blue sky. Oh happy shining hair and denim, Oh fiery cheeks and a new wool scarf, Oh take me life, I am your sequin. Today, I can't remember how to grieve.

It was so clear in my mind, It was as if I saw it.  It was! Do you know what? I wish I had a photo, I could show you what it was like, To laugh at nothing. As real as pie, as high as a kite, and as happy as a gladiola. Bud after bud. It was as clear as if I saw it. Almost a gladiola in the south Conservancy Garden, July 2010