Tuesday, November 1, 2011


ordinary wonder.

well . . .

the little joys
i find in
the scattered sparkles of you

your eyes hold me
until i am
tossed casually skyward
and i'm brought to feel
the ripeness of recognition
as i find myself
suddenly placed
inside my own words
where i find a song
in which each note
is so like
the opening
and closing of an entire universe

and you know
there are days when i could happily trade
all of this in
for the tumbledown stony thatch of a gurgling stream
the soft tangents of
wind-stroked seeds
looking for an entryway
into the latticework
and i would say
in that moment
"load this light bound silence
and fill it with those simple wishes"

oh you trees
you solemn clouds
oh you dried and colour-bound leaves
tell me you care
about any of this?

no matter
i shall be this way
if only for this very human
that i am.

i was listening to michael brook and pieter nooten's music "searching" as i wrote this.


Jo said...

"oh you dried and colour-bound leaves..."

I love that you speak to them and to the trees and clouds, Steven.

Whether they care or not, they feel the vibration of loving energy you send out to them.

To thine ownself be true.

R. Burnett Baker said...

Steven, Steven. From where do you draw this perspective, and how do we mere mortals seek that depth of inspiration? Love this....


Valerianna said...

Sometimes I think I understand words, sometimes not at all. Images I get, fully, and music, but words sometimes roll out layers upon layers of meaning. Guess that's useful. Anyway, in these words I got tossed skyward, too and felt closer to something. Do you know what I mean?

The Weaver of Grass said...

Beautiful as always Steven, and how well the words complement the picture.

Linda said...

Your poem sounds very blissful to me. And the vibrancy of the red sumach leaves are difficult to ignore at this time of year aren't they? "Ordinary wonder", yet there are those very complex days. Keep singing your song, Steven. I enjoy the words.

Pauline said...

That sounded like it just flowed out of you! And what a spectacular heading!

erin said...

ohhhhh! steven. if there were words involved in this poem i would say it was finely crafted, but as it is only two hands with a dash of the essential living revealed, i say, ohhhhh!