One More Nature Poem
Your nature is quiet as high desert at dawn,
quiet as a wilderness trail twisting upward
to the remote sculpture of a Sierra summit.
Quiet is the air you breathe, the quality
of love in the room you inhabit.
It is the luxurious warmth and security
indivisible from your tall, lanky frame,
and your beloved peaceful presence.
Our home is silent without you.
Your recliner is overstuffed with silence,
an overpowering, raucous silence
rowdier than a Lakers game or ESPN.
It fills and permeates every room,
seeps into every crack and crevice.
It molds my moods, before it sweeps me up
into the welcome realization
how blessed I am, for your absence
is only temporary. Any moment now
you will walk through the door.
Yoga of Marriage
Life has a way of shortening,
twisting, beguiling, bewitching.
Sometimes we don't know where
one leaves off, the other begins.
What exertion it requires,
this bone-deep endeavor,
feeling our way into the poses,
seeking the eternal in the everyday.
What laser-like awareness we must focus
without strain or pushing,
to achieve gain with a minimum of pain.
What courage it demands, this dance
of balancing and merging, yet maintaining
individuality, personal integrity.
Don't forget to breathe.
What full attention they exact, these
stretches for becoming weightless,
dropping masks, seeing anew.
Don't forget to breathe slow.
What commitment it asks, this
spiritual practice urging us into union
to celebrate each other, yet find
our own length, free ourselves.
Don't forget to breathe deep.
Holding these postures isn't easy.
They can injure or enlighten.
They can bond or place in bondage.
Don't forget to breathe, slow and deep.