AIRY FOOTSTEPS

What catechist insists
they’re ivory flights
in snowy clouds? Angels exist
in every rainbow color, including scarlet
footsteps on silver ladders
where charity runs in both directions.

Scarlet, as well, fills the Seventh Day
and Seventh Year, when you take rest.
Scarlet, as the sunset or sunrise
or the blood of the lamb. For that matter,

faith demands more than walking on water.

For starters, try treading on air
with or without the ladder.

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Copyright 2015

LOST AND FOUND

Enter the woods. Listen. Breathe.

Sometimes a woodlot will do. Or a grove along running water.

You don’t always need a forest.

Don’t worry about getting lost. Just pay attention to the trail. And the wind. And the light. Maybe a companion or two. Some of them human.

We’ll talk about holy later.

Green Repose 1~*~

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WITH THE SUMMIT SOMEWHERE ABOVE

Let me confess to struggling with the preposition for the title of this collection.

The initial thought was of being atop a mountain, with its panoramic views. But that runs the danger of suggesting superiority, submission of nature to man’s will, or placing more value on a given result rather than the process of getting there (and back). The climb, I’ll contend, is purification for what lies ahead.

An alternative “on the mountain” allows for the sense of having one’s feet on a trail or even presenting a series somehow “about” the mountain as a set of explanations.

I settled on “under” for its sense of looking upward, in awe or even reverence, as well as the fact that even in mountainous terrain, we live in the valley, with some degree of protection from the elements. Where the streams come down and weave their threaded branches together. Where at times the clouds nestle in. Where the eyes wander from the summit.

Mountain 1~*~

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HERE COMES COMPANY

Chief Seattle, who appears in the Grilled Salmon section of this poetry collection, is an elusive figure in American history. Whether he pulled a fast one is another question, but he did get a major city named in his honor.

As for his role here?

I enjoy his company. I hope you do, too.

Olympus 1~*~

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NOW THAT WE’RE IN THE THICK OF IT

Let me confess, I hadn’t intended to blog about the political conventions, but as events unfolded, I couldn’t resist.

But I am intrigued by the unexpected counterpoint my earlier scheduled postings are providing. There’s more to life, after all, than politics, though they can make daily affairs easier or more cumbersome. So here we are, bouncing between the experiences of camping in the high Cascades or walking around town or tending the garden and the manipulated circus that’s become the new Mistake on the Lake. Maybe the real wilderness adds an essential ballast or balance or at least a breath of fresh air.

I suspect this wild ride’s going to continue quite a while. Let’s try to keep our feet on the ground as we go. And don’t forget to smell the roses or coffee. Keep our priorities straight. Maybe even with a sense of humor.

ANYONE LIKE BEING SPIED ON?

The other afternoon we were sitting with friends in our Smoking Garden when a fast-moving object caught my eye. Shaped like a small airplane, it dashed across a span of sky visible between the limbs of a maple overhead and then halted. What we heard sounded like a large mosquito and was about just as welcome.

We presume it carried a camera and was spying on the neighborhood. When we edged outward for a closer look at the offending intruder, it scooted away, only to return several times later. Maybe it didn’t like being observed. For that matter, neither did we.

“If we had a gun, could we shoot it down?”

Well, how far does our airspace extend? And what rights do we have versus theirs? Whoever they are. Potential burglars looking for easy prey? Perverts? Even police?

The fact is, the experience is disconcerting, even before we get to the notorious role of drones in Afghanistan and other military – and not so military – zones.

Who’s responsible for this one? What’s it doing there, above us? And why?

Some of us cherish privacy as an essential American right embedded in the First Amendment. And then there’s that matter of my home is my castle, arising in English Common Law.

Besides, a mechanical drone has none of the freedom birds enjoy. The lower reaches of the sky should belong to natural aviators, not an artificial intruder.

Anyone else care to “chirp” in?

DO I NEED TO BRING THE BIRD FEEDER IN?

Maybe I’ve been too involved watching the surreal political scene that’s unfolding in America, but that hasn’t precluded us from enjoying the usual sequence of developments in the garden — things I’ve blogged about in previous years. We’ve enjoyed waves of (wild) dandelions followed by crops of asparagus, lettuce, and spinach, and now the sugar snap peas and raspberries. Maybe I’ve been too busy trying to stay ahead of the weeds, repairing some of our raised beds, even tackling a small patio space between the kitchen and driveway to report on any of it, but in general things are looking good and tasting even better.

One thing that always amazes us is the popularity of the bird feeder in summer. You’d think with all of the natural, wild food sources, the birds would ignore the feeder. Instead, they become voracious, going through as much of my grain and seed in a couple of days as they do in nearly a month of deep cold and snow. Yes, there are those babies to feed, but this still has us shaking our heads in wonderment. OK, we do live in a city, and anything we can do to enhance the avian population has its pluses. Still, we’d like them to remain independent and turn to our supply when things are tough rather than bountiful.

Feeders, I should note, fuel their own band of human supporters — along with topics of conversations. Squirrels are only one of the menaces.

Each spring, when I was editing the newspaper, I’d have to chuckle when the state Fish and Game Department issued its annual bring-your-feeders-in alert. We had enough friends who lived in the country to tell us — and sometimes show us the damage — of what could happen when the bears come out of hibernation and start roaming. The bruins will rip a feeder to shreds, sometimes a half-mile from the scene of the crime. (Well, our dentist had photos of the hairy ones at work — five days in a row of bears visiting the feeders on his deck right outside the kitchen overlooking the lake.) Living in town, though, I’ve never considered us at risk.

But now? A neighbor saw a bear yesterday just four or five blocks from us as it crossed a busy street just north of downtown. I know it’s a rare though not unknown phenomenon, but it’s still news. For now, I’m shaking my head and hoping the neighborhood dogs are on guard. Their barking should do the trick, if need be. So I’m told.