Bodies of Water

The trees are so stable,

their moods have such endurance.

They hold on for months

to the bare bitterness of winter,

the silence,

the absence of even a rustling leaf.

Then the trees embrace the sweet joyfulness of spring

in a long coquettish smile,

a blossom-blush lasting months.

Afterwards, the trees sail into the smooth serenity of summer,

wearing their regal wreaths with proud satisfaction.

Even the flaming, flickering colours of fall flash across their faces for months,

the trees, with their moods more stable than mine,

for I am but a tiny body of water

wrapped in skin.

My thinly guarded surface subject to tremors of wind,

the harassment of a sudden hailstorm

or the steady pounding of rain.

I’ve been know to get icicles in my eyelashes

tears of pain frozen before fully released.

Some things are better to let go of quickly.

In all this variable moodiness,

this passionate intensity and depth of feeling,

I am not alone,

for are we not all but small bodies of water

(97% H2O)

wrapped in skin,

the tides in our hearts tugged about by not just the moon,

but by the moods of all the other bodies of water

bumping around us

in this space

that is earth.

Oh, hey, aloha!

I’m outside walking on a January day;

the sidewalks and the sky are matching gray.

I pull my hands into my sleeves,

–the cold wet air is biting me–

but inside there’s a flame no one can see.

I’ve got Maui warmth

hidden in my heart.

The sunshine from Paia

is here to stay, yeah.

Oh, yeah, aloha!

Oh, yeah, aloha!

When you are in Hawaii,

no one asks you why

you’re doing what you’re doing

or you’re wearing what you’re wearing, today.

They say, “Oh, hey, aloha!

Hope you have a great day!

Oh, hey, aloha,

it’s just fine doing things your own way.”

When I was out swimming

with my brothers in the sea

I cut my foot on coral

now the sea’s inside of me.

I’ve got mermaid scars

(perhaps I’ll grow a tail).

The ocean’s salt is in my blood

and bright Maui stars

are ever in my eyes.

So oh, hey, aloha,

hope you’re having a great day

Oh hey aloha,

I’ll be going back to Maui,

someday.

Prairie Fire Under Snows

There is a flame the cold can’t quench

and so we joy-filled fill

this giant wooden teepee with song

We reach for the hand of one

whose wounded one reaches for ours

Sheltered in this house of God

by a cone of boards bound with nails

like a teepee sewn together

—holes through pierced skin—

protecting us from the winter storms

Like the people of Jerusalem we process with palms

but instead of hot sand the snow swirls around us

a soft spring snow

full of hope of future harvest

as the fire-golden wheat fields lie hidden

under the cold kiss of a blanket of snow

the way you lie hidden

the fire of your divinity

submerged in the wheat coloured wafer

we receive

We remember

We hope

We live in the shelter of his love

the humble king of glory

The snow lies still

The snow lies still upon the rooftops.

From a few houses

smoke rises in a misty haze

and the streetlights blaze

like midnight suns.

All is silent

except the steady breathing of my toddler

whom I’m rocking back to sleep.

In the upper bedroom

across the street

insomnia reigns

and the blue lights of the television

flash out a noiseless dance.

But the snow lies still upon the rooftops

and silence greets my sleepy glance outside.

Snow Scent 


Last night it smelled like snow–

when I stepped outside 

the air was crisp and icy–

pregnant with promise.  

In my garden 

the late blooming sunflowers

with their damp, cold petals

looked crestfallen and forlorn

as if thinking:

“I wasn’t expecting this!”


In the early morning half-light

I see the rooftops are powdered with icing sugar.

The kids wake up with excitement

and begin dreaming of gingerbread. 

My seven year old starts spouting:

“Snow says Christmastime…stuff has to stop growing sometime. 

If flowers never stopped growing there would be vines everywhere

Even in the road, and the cars could hardly go.”

Well, there you go. The seasons explained!