A PELICAN'S WINGS

 

A pod of pelicans flew by me the other morning and as I bid them au revoir…I wondered to myself if they know how graceful they all are.

Of course this is a mystery I’m likely never too unlock…but it led to a host of other questions as I continued on my walk.

Does a tree know how majestic he is…a nightingale how lovely is her song…does an octopus realize his intelligence…does an elephant know he’s strong?

How does night know when to become day…how does the moon know when to rise…do clouds feel when they’ve been painted by the sun…do rabbits communicate with their eyes?

Does a hippopotamus know how much he weighs…do otters really know how to play…do prairie dogs actually kiss…is an owl as wise as they say?

Can the oceans comprehend their vastness…or how the sunlight turns them blue…do the waves on the tides know where they’ve been…or where they’re going to?

Do butterflies and flowers know how beautiful they are…do flamingos know they are beguiling…do crickets have a conductor…why are dolphins always smiling?

I imagine these questions and others like them shall remain as elusive as the gracefulness of a pelican’s wings…but how lucky are we as humans that we can wonder about such things.

A MORNING WALK NOCTURNAL

 

Today’s poem is a gathering of notes I recently lifted from my journal…about the sights and sounds I had the other day on my morning walk…nocturnal.

From the moment I stepped out of my door…in voices loud and strong…a symphony of crickets greeted me with song.

And I must applaud their stamina…for no matter how much their lungs were stinging…through the entire length of my walk…those crickets kept on singing.

How wonderful for me…on this morning promenade…to be accompanied every step of the way…by a cricket serenade.

As I walked under a street lamp I encountered in my sight…the fluttering of moths who, like me, were attracted to the light.

I did my best to warn them, "Fly away!" I said…."Go back!"…because the bats were right behind them…looking for a snack.

Looking past the bats and moths…with the crickets all in tune…a blanket of clouds floated overhead back-lit by the moon.

A misty rain began falling from the clouds in raindrops soft and light…just enough to quench the thirst of the flowers blooming in the night.

I could hear the ocean in the distance and as I felt a morning breeze I noticed a family of rabbits playing in the shadows of the trees.

As I was finishing up my early morning circular commuting…in the tree in front of our house a horned owl started hooting.

The owl asked me if I had a nice walk…”Why, yes I did! I said.

Then the owl wished me good night as he headed off to bed.

Which makes me wonder what sights and sounds will end up in my journal…

Tomorrow 

and the next day…

as I take my morning walks…nocturnal.

STARS AND THE COTTONWOODS

 He loved the stories his Grandpa would tell when he’d visit him on the reservation…his favorite story…the one he’d always ask for…was about the stars…and their creation.

“The stars form secretly in the Earth”, Grandpa would begin, as he set him on his knee… “they drift under the surface until they find the roots of the cottonwood tree.”

“If there is a reason they choose the cottonwood…only the stars and the trees know why….the stars enter the roots…then work their way up…and wait till they are needed by the sky.

When the night sky asks the wind for more stars so the starlight can be increased,…the wind shakes the cottonwood branches, and when some break…new stars are released.

These new stars, just set free…who are only beginning to understand their light….ride upon the wind to take their places in the night.

The night sky ask these new stars to twinkle as their new life begins…it’s her way of showing the stars are safe…and saying thank you to the wind.

But Grandpa’s story doesn’t end there…if fact for his grandson, this is where it starts…as what happens next….is…and always will be…his grandson’s favorite part.

Together they gather fallen cottonwood twigs…and wait till the time is right…when the weather is calm, the sky is clear…and stars fill up the night.

They know this part by heart for they always follow the same plan…they close their eyes hold their twigs up high…then snap them as fast as they can

When they open their eyes they check the twig to see if a star pattern they can find…because the pattern is the shadow the new star has left behind…

Then they look up to the sky again…they they look high and they look far…If they see a twinkle in the sky…it’s a thank you from their star.

He love visiting his Grandpa…and if you ask him the reason why…

He’ll gladly tell you it’s because of all the stars they have sent up to the sky.

MAGIC HANDS

 

Here’s a little something I hope, someday, the whole world understands…that we all have been created with magic in our hands.

Mothers and their babies feel it from the moment the mother’s eyes upon the newborns linger…when she touches her hand to theirs…and they hold on to her finger.

And for a moment it seems time has paused…the world has stopped its spinning…but the magic passing between them…is only the beginning.

For anytime a mother holds her child’s hand…to comfort…to reassure…

the magic makes them feel safe…makes them feel protected…and secure.

As the children grow a little older…they begin to understand the magic, too…as their mother’s hands help their hands understand what hands can do.

All the fun their hands can have…all the pain they can help alleviate.

all the things their hands can build…all the love they can create.

When the children are no longer children…perhaps when life is grueling

they will visit their mothers and hold their hands whenever their magic needs refueling.

The magic is still there even as the mother’s life is ending…

when on her eyes their eyes will linger…

when they touch their hand to hers…

when she hold on to their finger.

Even when she’s gone…they will remember how she held their hands…how she loved them…how she smiled…for they know all the magic in her hands has been passed down to the child.

And they will pass the magic…to their children…and when they see it in their eyes…

they will smile knowing, as it passes down form generation to generation, 

the magic never dies.

For they have learned throughout the years…they have come to understand

the magic they have shared…that was passed down through her hands…

THE DAY THE FIRES HAS BURNED OUT

 

The news we received wasn’t tragic…wasn’t the worst news we’ve ever had…still…hearing our fireplace couldn’t be used anymore left us feeling sad.

For over 30 years whenever the weather turned cold we had a fire burning there…the sad news wasn’t just that she was broken…but she’ll cost too much too repair.

For over 30 years, when we needed her, she was ready with her glow…she watched our family come together…she watched our children and grandchildren grow.

When we think of all the holidays in front of her fires…all those ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY’S’ we would shout…it makes us sad, after all these years, to know her fire has burned out.

Again, we know this is not a tragedy…it’s just the closing of one door…and when we look back on the life we’ve lived…we have so much to be thankful for.

So we decided, once the news sunk in, not to think of our fireplace as gone…but, like us…she’s just retired…and to remember how lucky we have been to have all the memories of her fires.

Now, all we need do is sit back, close our eyes, and we remember…those times we turned the AC down in July…or those cold days in December.

For isn’t that the wonder of memories…perhaps that’s what memories are all about…as they will last forever…long after the fire has burned out.

THE DAY HER DAUGHTER FLIES

 

She knew this day would one day arrive

just as she knows each morning the sun will rise…

Still she feels its bittersweetness…

as this day delights and terrifies…

Sometimes she can’t stop herself from smiling…

other times…she cries

For today is the day when she can no longer see…

the child in her daughter’s eyes…

But she knows she given her daughter roots and wings

and she knows her daughter is wise

So she proudly stands aside and watches

the day her daughter flies.…

THE MAGIC OF THE BEACH

 

One reason we are drawn to slow walks along the beach…besides the beauty we are shown…is that every walk along the shore has a magic of its own.

Even though we may walk the same beach…may amble the same shore

each walk is filled with subtle differences than the walk before. 

The sand beneath our feet has shifted since the last time that we came…and in all the times we’ve walked this beach…no two sunsets are the same.

It’s possible we could see some errant seagulls, hungry ospreys or graceful pelicans soar…and if we’re lucky a family of dolphins might be swimming just off shore.

There is a good chance we’ll catch a breeze as it rides the waves onto the land…or see the footprints of some animals left imprinted in the sand.

Today we witnessed a beautiful sight as a grandpa and his grandson waded into the sea…and I remembered when that little boy was my grandson…and that grandpa next to him…was me.

As I watched them in the present making a memory that in their life I hope will last…

I smiled as my own memories allowed me to step into my past.

On this walk we saw pelicans…and seagulls…and sea shells hanging in a tree…

We saw a kaleidoscope of colors in the sky as the sun set in the sea…

But seeing that grandpa and his grandson…allowed me back in time to reach…

Reminding there is always as much beauty on the shore…

as there is magic on the beach.