Tag: joy

poetry

Mariah Leach’s Defiant Daffodils

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Photo by Mariah Zebrowski Leach.

Mariah Leach’s Defiant Daffodils

They were such a steady sign of spring
and, more than that,
of hope and the extravagant beauty
the cold ground could hold
that they captivated her gaze
year after year,
and she couldn’t help but see them
and celebrate their joyful presence
with at least one quick photo.
Looking back now
a parade of children joined them
also beckoned by the intense gold
when sun lit petal cells until they glowed.

Now they’ve pushed through
the burned crust of what was,
the tips of their long green leaves
yellowed by flame, singed
but still singing their spring song.
They refuse not to witness,
to not assert joy in a scene
where despair is easy to give way to.

This is what we do:
we press on and up
pushing aside impervious barriers
finding the sun through the intense dark cold.
We stand defiant among the wreckage.
We simply do what we’ve been made to do.
We grow. We shine.

poetry

Mather Campground Blessings

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Mather Campground Blessings

all these little red fires
dotting the campground
sending smoke and heat and resin
into the night sky

all these cold white fiery points
glistening down from the black night
so many suns in our far-flung galaxy
a sea of milky possibilities

I’m seized by the profound joy of being here
on a by-and-large hospitable
(even in these uncertain disaster-prone days)
planet

thank you combustion
radiation
equilibrium
fire and night

poetry

migrating snow geese

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migrating snow geese

some days joy hides
easy to forget the contours of its cheek
or the scent of its shirt in the closet

some days awe is a memory
stored under basement boxes
at risk of disappearing into a cobwebbed corner

but today
the snow geese stream by
loose white black-studded Vs against
clear blue sky

and we gasp over and over
at the spectacle of black/white/blue
at the never-endingness of the drifts of white
coming in on the wind

it’s an unfamiliar abundance
that we in this time of diminishment
imperilment risk extinction decline
fragmentation extirpation catastrophe
have little acquaintance with

and the rush of wings and bodies and joy
all these beings requiring essentially nothing of us
no intervention no advocacy no sacrifice
is so welcome we blink back tears

my son says if the sky had a necklace
it would be made of snow geese

we sit in wonder
not just listening to their cacophony
but feeling it inside our skins
the collective vibration of their thousands
of hearts and synapses
the air itself trembling
at holding such tenderness

poetry

cultivating hope

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cultivating hope

how to counter
that burned-out feeling
hollowed and cratered
and smoldering sulfur

how to raze the ruins
that’ve laid waste to your acreage
that puff black smoke
with each footfall

where to put the melted
twisted metal detritus
the toxic conglomerate
of how we once lived

how to make space for new ways
when dangerous wreckage
demands all your attention
all your reserves

each day there’s too much to do
to corral devastation
too much at risk
all the stakes are too high

the earth is too frozen
to lay our backs to this January
we can’t breathe in green warmth
and fall up into sky

but, it’s going to take more than just rage
and more than demands
more than a reckoning
and not less than love

how else can we cultivate
a new way of being
besides sowing/sewing it
singing it joyfully

believing audaciously
daring to hope

pushing our tired hands
deep into scarred soil
not giving up
until something green grows

poetry

morning eggs

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morning eggs

you never know
how the world may delight you next

today it’s the two
still-warm eggs
plucked from the coop
while still fired
with the heat
of being inside
nestled against a beating heart

now outside
for all to appreciate
their smooth mysterious perfection
(each utterly different)

poetry

Cedar at the sit spot

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Cedar at the sit spot

sometimes when I’m sitting quietly
waiting for nothing
he comes
it’s the sweetest sort of communion
Tous neyei3eibeihii*
he says to the tree that shelters us
and we sit together
contemplating the creek
the woods
the snow
and mostly the gift
of another soul
who knows how to be
silent still attentive and grateful
he magnifies my joy

* “Hello, teacher” in Arapaho/Hinóno’éí

poetry

camp pool slide

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camp pool slide

the kids line up
to corkscrew its length
just enough water
to keep the clip up
just enough depth
to make entry exciting
the temp’s just right
to orbit around
endlessly dripping giggles

poetry

roses in rain

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roses in rain

the smell of wild roses makes me weep
she said
conjuring the overwhelmingly poignant joy
that’s bound to put you over the edge
feet sunk into velvety dune sand
while waves build and collapse
for thousands of miles before you
soon as you slip one behind an ear
the petals fall
but the scent stays
sometimes I put a petal on my tongue
like a communion wafer
eager to embody sweetness somehow
today after the thunderstorm
they’re windblown and blowsy
petals plastered to leaves
spangled with tiny crystal balls
so heartbreakingly beautiful
I forget about trying to read the future
just tuck one behind my ear
breathe in joy all day