This morning, in being still
For perhaps a moment or two
Everything was achieved.

All that wanting
All that noise
Bothering my body
Constantly crowding this mind
all day long
and maybe
Into the night
And in the silence
I accomplished
the whole of my life’s work.

When my mother was settling down
Into her last sleep
She murmured,
“I have accomplished”
And in floating away on the tide
Into the vast ocean of stillness
She found that that was that
And smiled.

What I find in the silence
Is that all this activity
All these mistakes
All this awkwardness and floundering
Is magnificent.

I swim in it.
I give way to what I am and
what is becoming of all that
in this moment

As in the waters of hot sulfurous springs
we find again the flowing emptiness,
the joy of finding we are nothing
All the noise we have drawn in
to make our way
wherever we have come to
is gone.

As when, in those days
and days without endings
between the worlds,
we floated in stillness
Beginning only now and then
To sense somehow
through the beating rhythm
Of everything we knew
to feel the vibrations
that would eventually
capture our soul.

Sing to the Weeds of Spring


Weeding in the garden

 at the end of day.

A day of rain that came and came 

and then stopped again

just as evening turned

And sun returned

Opening a window 

onto that brief passage

 of spring to summer skies


I weed the onions 

and think how grateful 

they now seem 

for all that space and light.

They will, I know

Suddenly expand and grow.


I do not pull weeds

But thin instead the plants

that now compete 

With those onions 

we planted, gently, in the spring

that I wish will grow

as big and sweet and strong 

As ever their heritage will allow.


The plants I pull

become the soil 

that will then nourish

All this ground 

And flourish from our toil


They are equal to the onions 

But take another place

In this garden

That will, with all that grows

 nourish blood

And become 

in time 

our bones.