borrow or lend the love of a friend...

Stripping and Putting On

I always felt like a bird blown through the world.
I never felt like a tree.

I never wanted a patch of this earth to stand in,
that would stick to me.

I wanted to move by whatever throb my muscles
sent to me.

I never cared for cars that crawled on land or
air or sea.

If I rode, I'd rather another animal: horse, camel,
or shrewd donkey.

Never needed a nest, unless for the night,
or when winter overtook me.

Never wanted an extra skin between mine and the sun,
for vanity or modesty.

Would rather not have parents, had no yen for a child,
and never felt brotherly.

But I'd borrow or lend love of a friend. Let friend be
not stronger or weaker than me.

Never hankered for heaven, or shield from a Hell,
or played with the puppets Devil and Deity.

I never felt proud as one of the crowd under
the flag of a country.

Or felt that my genes were worth more or less than beans,
by accident of ancestry.

Never wished to buy or sell. Would just as well
not touch money.

Never wanted to own a thing that wasn't I born with,
Or to act by a fact not discovered by me.

I always felt like a bird blown through the world.
But I would like to lay

the egg of a world in a nest of calm beyond
this world's storm and decay.

I would like to own such wings as light speeds on,
far from this globule of night and day.

I would like to be able to put on, like clothes,
the bodies of all of those

creatures and things hatched under the wings
of that world.

May Swenson Nina and Patricia and I hiked up Little Mountain one nearly spring-y Sunday afternoon...

Looking southwest towards the Skagit Flats, with the Olympic Mountain Range waaaaay out there! (above)

Looking north towards Oh, Canada! (above) and Skagit Valley Hospital (below) where I never intended to work for 20+ years! but here I still am... It is one of the things that link me with peope I love, though, and, my, it's been swell...

Looking northwest, the Skagit River flowing toward Samish (below)

Looking east to the Cascade Foothills. I love living here!

A self portrat, or rather, le portrait les trois! My face is hidden but I'm in there. What a great afternoon that was. Let's go again!

Leaning into Spring

A Short Testament

Whatever harm I may have done
In all my life in all your wide creation
If I cannot repair it, I beg you to repair it.

And then there are all the wounded
the poor the deaf the lonely and the old
Whom I have roughly dismissed
As if I were not one of them.

Where I have wronged them by it
And I cannot make amends
I ask you To comfort them to overflowing,

And where there are lives I may have withered around me,
or lives of strangers far or near
That I've destroyed in blind complicity,
And if I cannot find them
Or have no way to serve them,

Remember them. I beg you to remember them
When winter is over
And all your unimaginable promises
Burst into song on death's bare branches.

Anne Porter

It feels like the winter that never ends! The last snow of the season came in February, around President's Day. Thankfully, spring was right around the corner!

Is it spring yet?

Starlings in Winter

Chunky and noisy,
but with stars in their black feathers,
they spring from the telephone wire
and instantly

they are acrobats
in the freezing wind.
And now, in the theater of air,
they swing over buildings

dipping and rising;
they float like one stippled star
that opens,
becomes for a moment fragmented,

then closes again;
and you watch
and you try
but you simply can't imagine

how they do it
with no articulated instruction, no pause,
only the silent confirmation
that they are this notable thing,

this wheel of many parts, that can rise and spin
over and over again,
full of gorgeous life.
Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us,

even in the leafless winter,
even in the ashy city.
I am thinking now
of grief, and of getting past it;

I feel my boots
trying to leave the ground,
I feel my heart
pumping hard, I want

to think again of dangerous and noble things.
I want to be light and frolicsome.
I want to be improbably beautiful and afraid of nothing,
as though I had wings.
Mary Oliver

It seems like February teased us with little windows of light and sun but before we (or the geese) could get too comfortable, clouds moved in. This winter has felt longer and colder than it should have.