I cannot hear the sound
from the hummingbirds’ wings,
as they join at the feeder,
nor the conversation between
the leaves on the sycamore
across the road,
beyond and over the fence
we planted in our backyard.
I can, however, use binoculars
to spy the hikers on the mountains
to the east, made visible now
by the recent rains,
the downpours which eliminated
the car dust from the sky.
Light has returned, and tomorrow
it will multiply itself
like it means it.
There’s magic in the desert,
winter becoming spring,
presto, change-o,
feeling like summer,
abracadabra,
wildflowers amid the cacti,
snowbirds on the wing.
Townies feeling it’s theirs again,
like days long past,
when only Angelenos came,
and then just for the weekend.
Not like now, so many Canadians
and their loonies, but they depart,
rushing home for their medi-care.
No need to shop at seven-a-m,
they can take their time about it,
like during the real summer.
No need, either for those shirts,
you know the ones,
with “local” for a logo,
timeshare hawkers off to Mexico.
Closer to real heat now,
pretty soon they’ll button down,
but not yet. This is prime time,
not quite Easter, still room to
pretty things up for the last big holiday,
the Memorial one,
but summer lurks, like a beast,
just around the corner.
So many tunes in
my mind that
do not deserve
my listening time.
Supply always
exceeds my demand.
So happy to realize that
God is not unhappy with me,
that I will love
my dear friends forevermore.
But not a second longer.
Today, I think of
the March birthday ones,
blessing them with
Sprezzatura.
Seeing both myself
and others as divine souls
keeps me more humane,
also leads me to see and
know the value of silence,
to make friends with
calm and stillness.
When my lips are closed,
there’s more room
for my heart to speak.
There’s magic in the desert,
winter becoming spring,
presto, change-o,
feeling like summer,
abracadabra,
wildflowers amid the cacti,
snowbirds on the wing.
Townies feeling it’s theirs again,
like days long past,
when only Angelenos came,
and then just for the weekend.
Not like now, so many Canadians
and their loonies, but they depart,
rushing home for their medi-care.
No need to shop at seven-a-m,
they can take their time about it,
like during the real summer.
No need, either for those shirts,
you know the ones,
with “local” for a logo,
timeshare hawkers off to Mexico.
Closer to real heat now,
pretty soon they’ll button down,
but not yet. This is prime time,
not quite Easter, still room to
pretty things up for the last big holiday,
the Memorial one,
but summer lurks, like a beast,
just around the corner.
