Tired

Tired
I am tired.
The day presses down on my head, letting it sink down.
There's miles to go before evening.

I am tired.
The littlist thing takes the most effort,
Yet creates satisfaction.

I am tired.
Night cannot fall soon enough.
Yet, when morning dawns--
I'll be ready again.

Night Falling

Night Falling
Night falls.
The sun sets over the flag mountain
Glitters one last wink on the river.
A girl walks toward home
The puppy jumps about her legs.

Night falls.
The moon will rise.
Here am I, alone in this
Caressed by hills. The stars whisper
Clouds murmur.

Night falls.
It falls over home and away
It falls over the flag mountain,
Over the river, over green-choked hills.
It falls to be caught by us and lulled to sleep
'Til day comes, impatient,
Ready to wake us all
For to greet it properly.

Dancing Shadows

Dancing Shadows
The light shines down
On white tile--
The soft swish of everything from ballet slippers
To cotton socks
To bare feet
Moving to music--Tabula Rasa
Or is it? It's something,
A forest glade,
A princess--
Brought to life in enchanted minds
A ragged blue scarf; a light pink skirt...

...walking home in a rain,
The last time.
The bag bangs against my leg
It's time for rest, sleep--
The people rush by, don't you know that it's all changed?
The forest, the princess--it's all gone
They'll never meet by the light of the moon
When the earth is still
Except for the faint pluck of the strings
The wind whispers,
Whispers what I have said before:
Fare thee well...

Songs

Songs
It was a hot sultry night
In the month of July,
A mosquito bit my leg
But a tune swirled in my head
And burst from my lips
And all the way home I sang.

It was a cold rainy day
In January,
Worry pressed on my heart.
But a tune filled my soul
And burst from my lips
And with new-found peace, I sang.

It was a sunny day
In the bleak midwinter
And joy was mine again
A tune touched my lips
And flew from them laughing,
Chasing it, I sang.

It's a rainy day
In the month of April
The rain beats down with the wind.
But my soul is song,
It swirls through my heart, my mind--
And, following it, I sing.

The Mystery

The Mystery
Walking down the stairs
I pass a woman dabbing her eyes
Why is she crying?

Walking down the street,
Two grannies point--laugh
I smile back. What was so funny?

Walking along the path,
A couple argues
What's the matter?

Walking home,
I meet a friend.
Others see a mystery--

I can only see myself.

Rain on Culloden

Rain on Culloden
Soft pounding on my umbrella
Drumming, drumming--
Beating on green grass
Soaking in the turf
Like blood, so long ago--
On Culloden Moor

I hear the Highland pipers
I see the flashing blades
I hear the rallying war-cry
And I see the bodies of so many brave Scotsmen
Scattered on Culloden Moor

Bonnie Charlie's dead and gone
Grass covers the soldiers' graves
And rain darkens the stone cairn
Since raised on Culloden Moor.

O'Carolan

O'Carolan
He sat down with his harp
Unseeing, wrote a song
Lifted his face to the breeze
Plucked a string, sent a gift to the world.

Did you realize, blind harper
You gave a gift to us?
Did you know how many would know and love it?

The harp is lost,
The harper lies 'neath the green turf;
But his song lives forever
In the hearts of its lovers.

His song crossed the waters,
In the hearts of its lovers;
It found a place on paper--
And it found a place in my heart.

Did you know?

Did you know what you gave us?
Perhaps you did.

Silence

Silence
All is still.
Rain falls on thirsty ground
Gentle tapping.
Crowded buildings, full of noise
No one wants to be out in the rain.

I do.
It's quiet.
The rain is at peace,
And so am I.

After a Rain

After a Rain
Silk shaken over the hills
Is a mirror.

Pale, ugly dust
Is rich.

Wilting, drooping excuses for plants
Are real.

Ruthlessly clear windows
Are misted.

The House and Garden

The House and Garden
My father built his house
On the top of a high, high hill
From his window, he can see me.
I can't see through the glass.

My brother and I walk in the garden
He knows me better than I do myself.
He calls the garden desolate;
I've known no other.

The sun will set soon
Over yon high, high hill.
The dark will surround,
But in my father's house, it will be light.

So when the sun sets,
I'll go inside.

The Earth Weeps

The Earth Weeps
The earth weeps.
The strength of her sighs
Whips the dust off the ground
To be flattened by her tears.

She covers her head with gray
And hides her face from the sun.
"Let me cry in peace".

The sun tries to see her,
To pull away her veil.
Their child of color and light dances before her.

Still the earth weeps.
Her tears fall hard and fast.
Who is she weeping for?
Why is she crying?

The low keening wail of the wind
Asks a question.

A Thousand Flowers

A Thousand Flowers
There's a field of a thousand flowers
I cannot begin to know them all
But of these thousand flowers,
One is dead and gone.

And was it the rose of Sharon
That bloomed on the mountain path?
Or was it the speckled tiger-lily
Dancing in a gentle wind?

Was it the sweet little daisy
Turning its face to be washed in the sun?
Or was it the tall camellia
Grown in a shadow of ice?

There's a field of a thousand flowers
I cannot begin to know them all.
But of these thousand flowers
The forget-me-not is forgotten, gone.