Daylight changes
as winter dissolves into spring,
trees shedding their ice
in the warm air.
I stir in my cave,
having digested the dreams
and phantom shadows,
hungry now for color.
It is the world I rise to,
always the world
and the green lens
I look through
to know my place
on the endless shore.
Beauty signals
from budding branches,
the sound of birds returning,
worms breaking ground.
Tender comes the morning
as if these few hours
were a nativity,
the sacred born
again and again
from the darkness
of the blessed earth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reading of “Sacred Born” with music by Maryliz Smith

The soft colors of budding trees,
deep greens of fir and cedar,
the startled look of squirrel,
the steady gaze of crow,
the sound of breaching whales
and high pitched cries of eagle,
human faces vast in number,
the star reach broad and clear.
On and on the roll call of creation,
ten thousand times a thousand
and still the surface barely scratched
while here I sit, a pin prick of light
within the fathomless gift.
Perhaps tomorrow I will count the birds
or soft-bellied slugs on their journey,
the herring as they ball and run
and these old man hands
set upon the page.
May wonder keep me open
when darkness descends,
the edges of mystery unravelling
into the waiting arms
of night’s starlit basket.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reading of “Night Basket” with music by Ahura

Paudriag spoke to me
though from afar
his voice both close and quiet,
reminding me of the green sloping land
and north the sea, shining and alive
with ancient music.

 

There is a place for him
and many gone before
who traveled to America
where they’d never rest,

 

returned now to Tir Na Nog,
forever young in the old land,
looking over the ocean,
soil deep and wet with rain,
full of peace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reading of “Tir Na Nog” with music by James Galway and the Chieftains

Perhaps today
the heartland will rise,
prairies sing their ancient songs
as broad lakes join flowing rivers
unceasing to the sea.

 

Though the noise of progress
may demand attention
beneath disturbance
are the clear tones of earth,
quiet as a dirt road,
fields green with spring.

 

Perhaps we may forget
or set aside the thoughts
that don’t become us
and let the deeper strains
of harmony find voice
in our words.

 

As whales intone
their plaintive melodies
traveling the deep ocean,
perhaps today we may
follow our halting footsteps
and come again
to the open gates of Eden.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reading of “Perhaps Today” with music by Jay Ungar and Molly Mason

There’s light upon the Colorado,
mountains aglow in the sun,
shining on the Wasatch and Sawtooth,
over the Canyonlands and Great Basin
to the deserts of Nevada and California.
From the high chaparral of eastern Oregon
pouring down the sentinel peaks
through the gorge of the Snake and Columbia
where the green swath of the Willamette leads
to the Coast Range and over to the grand Pacific.
Everything alive with the touch of life
that comes each day, urging the healing dark
to continue west, help the wounded and forlorn
to gather faith and awaken to this one moment in time,
the moment when the plum tree blossoms open
and spill out pink flowers in the first joy of spring.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Reading of “Plum Tree Blossoms” with music by Aaron Copland