7 – The Boy On The Dock

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Note:  This poem is dedicated to all children and the children within the rest of us.
Today, September 7, is  “End Malaria Day”… a day dedicated to eradication of Malaria, a deadly mosquito borne disease that kills one child on the planet every 45 seconds.
– It will take you less than 45 seconds to read this poem – Boy On The Dock
– It will take you less than a minute to read Seth’s Blog today… click link, please read!
– It will take you less than a minute to order the FAB! book (assuming you have your Amazon account set up) he refers to (Total proceeds to save two lives)
– It will take you less than a minute to pass along his blog, or the video or the message or this poem and inspire two more lives to take action.

The Boy On The Dock

The boy on the dock
Only knows Summer
While I well acquainted
Each ending of Summer

Knows only the mysteries
Miracles of this place
While I have given over
To answers and predictions

Knows only bedtime and stories
Bring an end to the day
While I rub up against
End of days, lean on old stories to tell

The water speaks to him
I can not hear
In a language all his own
One I have forgotten

My pen goes silent on paper
Hand poised, motionless
Voice inside inaudible
Silence overtaken by shouting
From the boy on the dock

6 – Driving in Rain

Surprised it was tricky
Being left with some part
Of something that was no thing
A picture of once was
Like driving in rain

We were dividing
Receiving fair shares
Didn’t see, didn’t hear
Cloaks torn to pieces
Skin from the game

Now feeling the shreds
These separated things
Have sharp fibers, rough edges
No handles to hold
Weight of the past

Why are they sticky
And cling to the walls
Have learned how to follow
Never get lost
Fingerprints cover the place

I was hoping for slippery
Simplicity with flow
Ease of coming and easy to go
Hasn’t turned out that way
Marked black and some blue from holding so tight

Foolish in wanting, in wanting
Misunderstandings of life
The now is for nothing
Accept letting go
Desire for the simple
Like driving in rain

5 – Ruth’s Bell

Note: This poem is dedicated to Ruth Denison.  I invite you to learn more about her thru these links.  She has been traveling from her center, Dhamma Dena, in the high desert of California to Insight Meditation Society in central Mass for 40 years to teach a retreat that begins on Labor Day.  This is and has been the last year…

RUTH’S BELL

This Bell, Ruth’s Bell, is ringing
For you and I
To come
To the meditation hall
Now

Mindfully
Or mindlessly
It is time
For us to go
For all things to go

The bell ringer touches
The brass bell
With the gong
In awareness
Or not…

Mindfully
Or mindlessly
It is time
For us to go
For all things to go

You and I
Must now walk worn stone paths
One foot in front of the other
Repeating it
Until we arrive

Mindfully
Or mindlessly
It is time
For us to go
For all things to go

One last time at 89
She speaks to us
Forty years she has come here
Offering only awareness
And you?

Mindfully
Or mindlessly
It is time
For us to go
For all things to go

The Lioness now in Winter
Strong in all Seasons
She is unaverse
To the coming
Cold darkness

Mindfully
Or mindlessly
It is time
For us to go
For all things to go

A fierce protector
Of the Dharma
She roars with conviction
Comes fanged with insight
Wears a mane of time tested truths

Mindfully
Or mindlessly
It is time
For us to go
For all things to go

A nurturing mother
To young lion cubs
Now come to her side
For tender instruction
This one last time

Mindfully
Or mindlessly
It is time
For us to go
For all things to go

2 – The Aspen Leaves

The Aspen Leaves
Heart shaped
Lying flat, still in the sky
For so long – all Summer
Hung perfectly, so evenly spaced last Spring For this moment

They now have changed their calm
Even minds
Flutter madly
Scarecrows
Their shine now flickering
Flashing at us like pie plates
Shooing and frightening away the flocks
Of visitors and vacationers
From this place

Why don’t they want us here –
Have we harmed them?
Why don’t they want us any longer –
Have we not been conscious of them?
What do they know –
That we do not?

I join in the parade
Among the countless players
In the endless line of bands
Who pass in front of the grandstand
That is the end of Summer
We move off Island, off Cape
Off cottage and camp

We think we are leaving
Ahead of high winds and hard rains
Season of hurricanes
An orderly evacuation
Following the route
… We are not
We are being sent away
Before being swept away

Our one leaf
In a mighty wind
This season or next
This day or another
We think we are saying our good-byes
But we are being told
In so many ways
It has ended

Calling All Readers!!!

Would you do a project with me?
Have some fun, do something seasonal, accomplish something together with only a little effort?
And help me out… I can sure use it

Here’s the basic idea:
I want to do something this month I’ve thought about for years
I don’t know about you, but for me September is not only a month, but a season, a passage.
I start this one again with a guided meditation retreat and end it with a memorial service to my father, my first teacher, dead now 20 years.

Do you feel September too?
Feel it enter you with that same but sure realization as when you walk in a dew covered field…
Notice the grass wet and covered
Your shoes shiny with the drops and moisture and wonder, ‘how long?’
Sense they are no longer shedding and think, ‘yes…”
Wetness throughout, socks wet, too late
Then acceptance, walking on, undistracted

Would you walk with me?
Here’s what happens:
September has 30 days
I write 3o poems
One per day

Next we add talent!
We start with Monica Rodgers adding in photography.

Then we add You!
You are invited each daily poetry post to do some or all of the following right along with us:
* Read
* Comment
* Edit
* Critique
* Pass along to friends and family for their comments
* Add your own thoughts that get stirred
* Add more to the poem or add more Poetry
* Send your Photos or other art

At the end… we  make it a Collection, actually we make it all into a book.
It’s called something like “September’s Impermanences”

What do you think???

Don’t delay, write me today!
Let me know what you think of the idea…

Farming’s a Beach

“Why don’t you come for a few days, the kids would love to see their uncle!”

What an invite! Yea, Summer Vacation Time!!!

Off we go, to Two Coves Farm Harpswell, Maine (my brother’s place). Better than Martha’s Vineyard or Kennebunk… to many Presidents there.

And here’s what we found…

Farming is just like a day at the beach…  Just as pretty, but a lot less sand

 

Lots of kids… Look! some are even friendly

The whole family gets to go, but you can leave your trunks at home… (instead keep your dirty and sweaty clothes on)

Everyone loves the wind in their hair on the ride, but it’s not with a convertible

Lots of other kinds of life, just not marine life – (I think they’re amphibian)

Every meal is a picnic – meaning lots on sandwiches…

And, Look! you can even see some water from where you’re doing chores

What a life!

It’s Been Raining

Skin

Skin works both ways
Some days
Rain falls
Rolls right off my back
As if a duck
Floating on your lake

Other days skin
Keeps in
All there is
Beneath the surface
Of this pond

Rain spatters
Surfaces
Disturbing calm, smooth
Reflectiveness
Noisily

But no tears seem to fall
Onto me
Rippling the exterior
Roiling
Or raising a motion

They seem instead to fill from below
Silently seeping
Flooding all beneath the surface
Never spilling spontaneously over

Just filling
Filling this skin
With the weight
Of water

JLGrady
8.11