Fog

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He sniffs the damp fence post, a reveal of who came before.
Deciding all is well, he leaves his mark
and we continue on.
Fog sneaks in behind us, a foreshadowing of storm.
We will not venture out into early morning falling flakes,
only because I fear ice that lays waiting to surprise,
A turn of seasons offers its own perspective,
leaving its mark for me to decipher.

 

Dog

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There is something holy
about the three of us
here in bed together,
a clouded sky at
snow’s first settling.

When you came to us
we were only two,
you made three,
a sacred number.

As you press against me
your gentle breathing
silky coat
a comfort to my day,
I am guarded from
that which diminishes
that which matters less.

A ternary,
we sleep.
Woman, man, and dog.

Bremen

Day Twenty Nine
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BremenBremenPawsColor

In the middle of dark night
I am careful in my step.
Gently I move around now empty space
no longer warm from your presence.

I climb stairs hoping to see
head resting on paws, bright
eyes connecting to mine,
hear the steady beat of your
tail against the floor.

I check to see if your
water bowl needs filling,
only to be met by bare wooden
floor boards discolored from years
of dripping jowls.

Our house rings of empty.
My heart still beats but
not loud enough to fill the space.

In gratitude I bow to your
being. You filled my life.

Good boy.

Almanac Questionnaire.6

Day Twenty One
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Sunday worship, a custom

child with hat and white gloves, black patent shoes
kneeling, hands folded, head bowed in supplication

guitars, women nearer the altar, kiss of peace

a pause, a long time gone

new words for old prayers, re-imaging Christ

no longer defined by Sunday or its tired form

In reverence of Redwood architecture
joining air to earth to that which lies beneath
I stand in awe of your strength
pay homage to your constancy

Three minutes down the city banded
alleyway, a wall to halt my vagrancy,
you press me to change my viewpoint,
look up instead of down, past high rise windows
my eyes ascend to glimpse a peek of sky where
buildings join air to earth
to that which lies beneath
In observance I discover
You are also here

Outside my glazed glass frame
a tree bows in reverence under snow,
crow, owl and squirrel, bees and spiders
await their spring ritual
Tree, oh Tree, you brush my face
in morning hello
tap my window in icy storm
wear that which I cannot control,
innocent release to what Is,
you welcome me to journey
enraptured I bow to You

Lilacs, lavender, iris
purple flora scenting air
fill my lungs with song
I chant Your being

In weep of rain,
I receive your indulgence
wash away quotidian dust
rain, oh, rain
a baptism of comfort issued
Your lullaby and caress

I fear of being homeless,
without a house to cover my form.
But You are home within my being,
a house not of cards to collapse
with slightest breath
but Spirit filled dwelling
where I rest and cry, sleep and love,
You place yourself within
to walk with me in holy sanctuary
all the days of my life

Leo was there to welcome him home,
a scrap from a letter, condolences from Pam
canidae, anubis, golden wolf,
protector of graves and cemeteries
I celebrate your unwavering devotion
Dog and God

Magdalene, a most notable person,
not whore who washed his feet,
that image only for those who boast
of saving souls, condemning sinners,
I know you as woman of understanding
the one who saw, the one who loved
the one who believed
I praise your grace

To be continued…

.

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Author’s Note:

Click for explanation of this growing poem!

What I’ve used so far…
Almanac Questionnaire
Weather: rain
Flora: lilacs, lavender, iris
Architecture: Redwoods
Customs: Sunday Worship
Mammals/reptiles/fish:
Childhood dream:
Found on the Street:
Export:
Graffiti:
Lover:
Conspiracy:
Dress:
Hometown memory:
Notable person: Mary Magdalene
Outside your window, you find: my Tree
Today’s news headline:
Scrap from a letter: Condolence card for Bremen from Pam
Animal from a myth:
Story read to children at night:
You walk three minutes down an alley and you find: Wall
You walk to the border and hear:
What you fear: Being houseless
Picture on your city’s postcard:

You Told Me So

I hear my footsteps pad on the sidewalk long
before children trample their way to school.
In early morning air I am almost alone in this
suburban maze, silence not often found here.

Bremen’s claws, too long because his fear of me
too close, holding too tight, no room for escape, scuff
along the cement. His eyes catch the flight of a
neighbor rabbit unsure of his motives. He has none.

We walk in silence not changing anything in our
path. We breathe sweet air cleaned of daily
chores past, ready to embrace the new once again.

I long to know You, your smile, your breath. In these
early jaunts, I can almost feel your touch. I know You
are there, You told me so.

You are in the filling of my lungs, the fullness in my eyes.
You walk with me in sweet word, gentle prayer,
song waiting to be heard, a tug at the end of a leash.
You are there. You told me so.

.

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Author’s Note:

Good night.