Burning On

8

June 26, 2017, Prescott-

This double haiku refers to the Goodwin Fire, now burning southeast of Prescott.  From 8 PM to 8AM(Tuesday), I will be manning the small shelter set up by the Red Cross, in the village of Spring Valley.

I would get packed,

then, I’d buy two tires

and head on out.

Mother Nature requests pause.

The fire down the road,

won’t be put out.

 

Manchester

5

May 22, 2017, Prescott-

So many youths,

glad for an evening

of music that made them

dance,

on the floor

and in their hearts.

Nineteen are gone,

fifty hanging on,

because of one

with a detonator.

A light-hearted young woman,

seeking to make her fans’ lives

a bit more carefree,

sits crestfallen,

broken-hearted,

in a hotel room,

in Manchester.

Home

5

May 21, 2017, Kelowna,BC-via Prescott

“Wherever you have friends, that’s your country. Wherever you receive love, that’s your home.” Tibetan proverb quoted by the Dalai Lama in The Book of Joy (I highly recommend this book!) This quote brilliantly summarizes my experience of life with and as an exchange student. Half your heart has moved to a new location.

via quote- home — Shawn L. Bird

Thoughts on A Morning World

3

May 20, 2017, Prescott- 

My spirit got me out of bed at 5:45,

just because this time of year,

with work winding down,

and the relative relaxation

of June approaching,

fills the spirit

with affirmation.

It’s easy to get off track,

when competing agendas,

of straight and narrow,

clash above my head.

This morning,

there is no such noise.

The lively Farmer’s Market

is always good for

several minutes of relaxation,

and live music,

even if one has to sit

on a curb,

as the tables are occupied

by people I’ve not met.

I’m just not so forward, yet.

My shyness goes back

a long way,

but no matter.

Let everyone

just enjoy themselves.

I think of a little girl,

whose name I know not,

who greets everyone

at school with

a hopeful smile,

and those she trusts,

with “Good Morning!”

Would that we could

all bring ourselves

to do the same.

I think I am going to buy

and put up, a hummingbird feeder.

It’ll be by the front window

during June,

and again from

August, forward.

I think I am

going to get rid

of lots of other stuff

in June,

and again in August.

I am going to make

Superior to Globe,

my getaway mainstay,

from September to May.

There is no romance,

that’s not the point.

There is intense spiritual energy,

vortical sustenance,

in many parts of the Southwest,

but especially along

that Copper Road.

These are my thoughts,

in this Saturday morning world.

Now it’s time to do a few errands,

pull a few weeds,

and eat a hot dog,

in honour of  Armed Forces Day.

Happy Weekend, one and all!

 

Sixty Six, for Sixty-Six, Part XXXIII: Duality

14

May 9, 2017, Prescott- 

I was ill, today.

It’s been a long time,

twenty years, in fact,

since I have been too ill

to go to work.

So, here I am,

having been in bed

most of the day.

Our bodies remind us

that we are dual creatures.

The physical frame lasts

longer for some,

than for others.

The spirit keeps on ticking,

regardless of the licking.

So, I slept, deeply,

and dreamed of my kids

working through their challenges.

When I get up,

to pray, to read the newspaper,

to get the mail, and to get in the car

and take care of an errand,

it felt like the weight of the world

was pressing down.

It’s not so much that way, right now.

My body will accept going to work,

the rest of the week.

Duality-

It’s like that with groups, too.

My team can be maddeningly fastidious,

about dots and tittles,

of student behaviour.

When I needed their understanding,

today, though,

the word was

“Get your rest,

we’ve got it all covered.”

That’s what I love most about life.

It works out, when essential.

Sixty Six, for Sixty-Six, Part XXX: Density

2

,May 2, 2017, Prescott-

The night sky seems denser than usual.

I’m walking home,

from the second of two meetings

held after work.

This one was spiritual, in tone,

so I was not worn down.

Spirituality can be dense,

also.

Yet, that density is what lifts us

to the light,

and sustains us,

in time of an even denser sorrow.

My heart aches for one

who lost her dearest,

a few days ago.

I have been there,

and felt the aloneness,

even when surrounded by friends.

She feels lost, at times,

this I know,

without ever having met her.

There is a fog,

as thick as pea soup,

that envelops the grieving.

Left behind, it seems,

one inches forward,

in the gloom.

Light breaks through,

however,

because that is the nature

of the Universe.

The density of light

is what sustains us.

We stand with you, Senora.

Let us, the friends you know,

and those you haven’t met,

be your light.

Requiem On A Winding Road

9

May 1, 2017, Prescott-

I sat in a quiet, uncrowded taqueria, this evening.

The solemn crew of cooks and servers remained

as earnest and dedicated in their craft, as always.

Don Jefe, though, was somewhere else.

The motorcycle had been on the downhill of this road, countless times.

Its rider had gone to visit his friends, in the small town,

southwest of here, countless times.

That sunny, windy afternoon, last week,

he was taken somewhere else.

It’s not clear why she,

with both hands on the wheel of her truck,

felt it imperative to hurtle along,

pell mell, at breakneck speeds.

All that is known,

is that she over-corrected,

having realized she was in,

over her head,

on a winding road.

Her mind, it seems, had been somewhere else.

The young worker was on his way uphill,

driving into town, to put in his time.

He was a tad behind schedule,

but it wasn’t important enough,

to risk life and limb.

He was driving prudently,

and wondered why

the truck ahead of him

was taking the bends

so fast.

He saw the truck and motorcycle

collide.

He saw the rider, flying somewhere else.

The taqueria owner opened his shop,

most mornings, at seven,

and was  usually there for the closing,

twelve hours later.

His family, and a devoted crew

kept the place flowing,

building a dedicated base

of regular diners

and take-out customers.

Tonight, as I enjoyed

an enchilada-style burrito,

with a side of solemnity,

the messages of love

and gratitude

filled the shop’s windows.

Vases of flowers began to spread

along a small section

of the storefront.

Bright, multivariate,

in colour and hue.

That’s how the taqueria owner

would want it,

bringing joy out of pain,

as he watches,

from somewhere else.

Adios, Don Jayme.

Sixty Six, for Sixty-Six, Part XXIX: Kindred Spirits

2

April 30, 2017, Prescott-

My spiritual family,

ever present,

even when physically

distant,

have made all the difference,

in a life that has seen

its share of ups and downs,

on a vessel

that has hit its share

of shoals and sand bars.

Spirit mothers,

reinforce what my

birth mother taught.

Father spirits,

advise bold action,

but with a sense of

constancy.

Brothers in spirit,

proffer strength,

yet are not afraid

of sensitivity.

Spirit sisters,

you are in

particular abundance,

of late.

It is always a comfort

to feel your loyalty

and nurturance.

Child spirits,

you are inheriting

the momentum

that will restore

our fellow man.

We know one another,

instantaneously.

Many of you reside

in Arizona,

but there you are,

when I happen upon

California, Colorado,

Texas, Oklahoma,

Illinois, Indiana,

Massachusetts, Virginia,

Florida, Washington,

Alaska, Alabama,

France, Korea

and so many points,

in between and beyond.

It is my greatest comfort

to feel your love and support.

Lover spirit,

you are ever with me

as you have been,

from the beginning.

Your message is

to forge ahead,

do what I am intended to do.

The parent, sibling and child spirits,

will see me through.

Should you, my love, visit me

in another personage,

I will be mindful and attentive.

Until then, my kindred spirits

envelop me in love,

as I envelop them.

Tapeats Creek

2

April 29, 2017, Prescott-

I’ve not been to Tapeats Creek.

I hear it is a raging torrent, right now.

Reachable from the North Rim,

of the Grand Canyon

of the Colorado River,

via a trail best used

by the hardiest

of the hardy,

Tapeats tempts

and threatens.

So, a hardy family

set out,

on Easter Weekend,

to take up the challenge.

So, a woman with

consummate wilderness skills

led her grandson,

to the water’s edge.

So, they lost their footing,

and were taken,

by Tapeats Creek.

The young man

was found, yesterday.

Tapeats had claimed

another victim.

The woman’s fate

remains yet uncertain.

The waters do not invite.

The waters only accept us,

on their own terms.