Morning Walk

I stumbled today

in my own footprints

embedded in the morning path

I have daily walked

with half-closed eyes

the world a peripheral blur

and with my hands in the earth

a spider's lacy web

drew my eyes up to the trees

she crocheted herself, speckled

across the trail

alluring me through her doorway of mindfulness,

of beauty transient

on my knees

the soft, white underbelly

of a thousand leaves

invited me to honor each luminous vein

and through the green-gray trunks

a fawn stilt-walked

among the milkweed

the thick sheet of haze

parted

and the blue hills rolled on

and on

Oh, daily, Lord

turn these downcast eyes to You

and all your faces.

Poem of the...fortnight?

If there is anything redemptive about August in Virginia, it's the abundance of things fresh and crips from the vine/bush/tree.  Today at lunch I ate entirely too many cherries and remembered this poem, written last summer during cherry season.  Thought I would share one of the things that helps me survive the southern summer!

The Orchard

Leaves of light flank the painted mountains

like ladder rungs under the press of sky

in the weight of morning we walk the dusty road.

The world is cool beneath the branches of the cherry tree

limbs trembling with vermillion orbs

that glow like bulbs and lay hot in the palm

the electric sun longs to bake the flesh into

crisp pies and sticky jams

The earth is good. It slakes our thirst

with taut fruits and foamy soil

we are our true selves as sweetness

runs down our chins and stains our fingernails

The flies buzz their hallelujahs

around our ears

and old women in scarves

hold fistfulls of cherries and chuckle

in a language we do not know.

Poem of the Day

Carpet

I saw once in Jaipur an upper room

filled with rows of boys

embroidering saris

stretched taut on open frames

kneeling

their eyes squinting close as the golden thread

vanished and appeared in the silk.

In the room below, a wiry man

flung water from buckets over

freshly-woven carpet.

Whiskered, shirtless,

he brushed the water with

a bundle of reeds

to open the fibers.

Vibrant blues and crimsons

bloomed through the soap suds

with each swishing stroke.

The factory owner surveyed his kingdom

with knees spread wide

lauding the workmanship

driving a bargain

dressing the floors of my home.

His belly ballooned over its

gleaming belt buckle

oiled shoes two-stepping

back from the sludge.

The man with the reeds

bent sharply at the waist

peering closely at the golden weave

refusing to lift his eyes.

Poem of the Day

In honor of my favorite time of day...

Compline

Sleep
is falling
off the bright
ledge of the world
into the arms
of God.

Ordinary

Without apologies or explanation, lets just say I'm venturing into the blogging world again.  This time without any agenda but to share the weight and wonder I keep finding ordinary life.  Without further ado, here is the first venture, my poem of the day.

 Public Library

There is a woman in the corner

beneath the plate-glass window

she clutches her belongings in a canvas sack

its seam slowly unraveling

she mutters stories to herself

and any who will hear

as if she were the children's librarian

gathering a semi-circle of bodies at her feet

hands animated, eyes laughing

as if she were the book itself

the afternoon sun

spilling upon her open pages

I am sitting on the red carpet two shelves over

reading Rita Dove

I cannot hold on to the poem in my hands

I hear only this poem in my ears

47 Days.

That's right. I've been stateside for 47 days. The past month and a half are what I am referring to as forced rest. Because, you see, I'm not so sure I want to be resting anymore. I'm starting to get a little bit antsy. But God knows I need this time to recover from a beautiful but exhausting six months. Not to mention the exhausting four years prior to that. So the fact that I haven't yet found a job has been a blessing. Its provoked good self-reflection, prayer, and joyful times with family and friends. And I have eaten a lot of Bodo's. As a matter of fact, I've done quite a few things! Here are just a few:

Visiting friends in NoVa. Highlights: Anna's baby belly, and my conversion to being a soy milk drinker, thanks to Chris. The Lowlight? Driving to Dulles Airport during the Marine Corps Marathon.

Girls' Getaway to Colorado Springs with my sister. Highlights: Illegal scrambling in Garden of the Gods, Dunkin' Donuts, knitting hats at midnight. Lowlight: Two hours on the runway in Denver, waiting to be de-iced.

Graves Mountain Apple Festival. Highlights: Time with the fam. Apple doughnuts. Lowlight: It. was. cold.

North Carolina! Highlights: Seeing old friends. Uptown Life Group. Wandering around Greensboro with Brooke. Lowlight: Culture Shock at South Park Mall. Tears ensued.

Blackfrier's THeater in Staunton. Highlights: Good company. Good coffee. Elizabethan theater does "Total eclipse of the heart." Lowlight: Kline's closes at 9:30?!

Like I said, it's been good.

Thoughts on returning to America

1. Indian cockroaches keep crawling out of my clothing. I hope this doesn't get me in trouble with US Immigration; they already confiscated my British apple.

2. Virginia apples are so delicious.

3. Dear Old Navy: Thank you for saying that long tops and bright colors are in style. I just might survive here if you would only turn off your AC.

4. I am cold.

5. Dear exercise-obsessed people at Gold's Gym: maybe you should take up rice farming.

6. Dear Silver Honda Civic: I am so sorry I was ever embarrassed about the big ol' dent in your door. I have realized how nice you really are. And I can't remember the last time I was in a car without ten other people.

7. Would it be totally innapropriate to walk around town in a sari?

8. I can call people without having to calculate the time difference!

9. I am in love with thirty people on the other side of the world.

10. I think about them fifty times a day.

11. I'm not who I was.