Tiny Worlds

68 :: Apothecary

Apothecary.
In miniature.
Could you mix me up
a custom brew,
please?
I could use
a little boost
of hope
as we approach
the equinox.

66 :: Pack Rat

The reality
of creative children
is this
desk top
which accumulates
bits and pieces
faster than
I can help clean
them
up.

71 :: Desk Top

Pinecones: Close In

Revisiting one of my favorite poems. . .

Start Close In
By David Whyte

Start close in
don’t take the second step
or the third,
start with the first
thing
close in,
the step
you don’t want to take.

Start with
the ground
you know,
the pale ground
beneath your feet,
your own
way of starting
the conversation.

Start with your own
question,
give up on other
people’s questions,
don’t let them
smother something
simple.

To find
another’s voice,
follow
your own voice,
wait until
that voice
becomes a
private ear
listening
to another.

Start right now
take a small step
you can call your own
don’t follow
someone else’s
heroics, be humble
and focused,
start close in,
don’t mistake
that other
for your own.

Start close in,
don’t take
the second step
or the third
start with the first
thing
close in,
the step
you don’t want to take.

(David Whyte, River Flow: New & Selected Poems)

Dark

To Know the Dark

To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.
To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight,
and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,
and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.

“The Selected Poems of Wendell Berry,” Counterpoint, 1998: p. 68.

I find myself revisiting this very Novemberish poem. Going dark.

Making Space

A meditative morning
cleaning out a garden bed,
getting ready for garlic.

Pulling out the old growth
to make room.
Letting in the light,
just before the rain.

There is so much color here —
so much joy in the seeding and growing,
planting and transplanting.
Watching, waiting, watering.
Flourishing, nourishing.

But there is sorrow, too.
Sorrow in letting it all go,
pulling it out —
even as I know that I must let it go
to make space for what is to come.