untangling the web

poetry about and photography of everyday happenings and sights


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Keepers

Note: At a recent meeting of my 70+ (now 80+!) group of women, our assignment was to share “keepers,” in other words moments in our lives, past or present, that brought us joy. Mine are in this poem.

There was the time recently

When Luna and I were on

A visit to the County Jail

And she remembered a

Young man from another

Visit and curled up 

Against him, and when he

Moved on to another dog

She went over and licked 

His ear as if to say, come

Back to me, we have a

Special bond. And he grinned.

And on that same visit I

Can see the tattooed

Young man rolling on

The floor with a blind

Dog who knew him

By his smell and brought

To him moments of

Pure joy and a memory

Of the outside world.

And then there were

Those hours on a 

Sunday afternoon when

We celebrated poetry

And women’s friendships,

A gift from my family

That will never be

Forgotten as I see

Each face and hear

Each voice and immerse

Myself in the memory

Of a perfect gift.


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The Great Mystery

What makes mist gently

move across the pond or

the pond reflect the clouds?

What makes the sound

of the wind, and why do

pine needles fall to

the ground? What makes 

the lavender flowers…these

lavender flowers at my feet

or the white ones beside them?

What makes the blue heron’s 

neck so long and why does he 

stand so still at our approach?

And what about the algae

on the fallen branch or

the orange mushrooms?

You might say that it

is all explained by science.

But what explains science?

Does anyone really know?

Do we work too hard

to make sense of it all

when perhaps we are

just meant to be amazed?


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In Our Seventies

The question now is not how do

we want to die,

it is how do

we want to live.

 

Do we hold on to life’s regrets,

cling to grudges,

or welcome all

and cultivate

 

“don’t know” minds, bring our whole selves, find

places of rest,

see what’s sacred,

die into life.

 

Inspired by Five Invitations by Frank Ostaseki and my 70+ Group of Wise Women

I


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Perceptions

Seeming like a blanket of white

flowers, it is

a field of pale

purple splendor,

seen only when I bend down and

look closely. Each

beauty has six

petals around

a yellow center, threadlike

lines splitting each.

So delicate,

so exquisite.

Perhaps if we took the time to

really see those

we pass, we would

glimpse their beauty.

For this I know, there is a light,

an essence, a

center in each

of us, just as

there is a center in each of

those lavender

beauties waiting

to be noticed.