Much of spirituality
tips its cap at
surfing well,
the changes
of a human life
Reading the tides;
our internal compass
pointing at the outer world
following suit
Aligning with the cycles
of nature
by
hugging trees
while howling at the moon
Witnessing the earth
while
trying to be
brave
Setting our leaves free;
Making space
for Spring to bloom again
Mar 11, 2021
Mar 11, 2021 at 6:05 PM UTC
We moved a few hours south of the rainforest
still holding on up in the native corners
of the still wild NW
A few hours south of where I slid into
this life
& upon our return
he said,
“if you make it 3 years you’ll stay forever”
you either turn from the rain
or rush in joy
into the damp
clean
face of it
Mar 2, 2021
Mar 2, 2021 at 1:53 PM UTC
Each day
The weight of a leaf
Falling
into a pile
we gather
up
at the end
Each leaf is 5 grams;
but the pile
weighs
hundreds of
pounds
No weight in our hand
Simply the feeling
Of crisp form
Its corners, ridges,
And variegation
of hues
Some days we conclude in prayer,
“Oh, thank God it’s over,”
Yet it counts,
this one leaf,
filling our bin of days
Experiencing
Ourselves,
One leaf at a time.
Feb 3, 2021
Feb 3, 2021 at 2:23 PM UTC
As legs hang on rusty hinges
the strides of doorways
lesser long
wisdom crisps its palms
up to the hearths of winter
on walks
Older finds joy
watching little jelly movers
under the snowy leaves
of autumn's fall
There is freedom
in holding back;
experiencing exuberance
perched high in cedar
witnessing the now moments
of a uranian world
from a fifth dimensional view
Knowing that Love
sourced from the heart
affects the observed
just as true.
Jan 6, 2021
Jan 6, 2021 at 5:58 PM UTC
Fog blankets the stage
a bark trail underfoot,
made soft by the mist;
trees as
cloud
umbrellas
the silent dog
matching footfalls
four and two
under a downpour
of such
volumes
transmuting us
back
to formless
bliss
that alchemy
of singular
water drops
into
puddle.
-MJT
Dec 28, 2020
Dec 28, 2020 at 8:24 PM UTC
A Poem on hearing the voice of nature
The open field
Bordered by firs elders
Covered in blooming
Lemon clover
Left space
Inside this vast openness
I set down my burdens
My worries
& discomforts
And the burlap
they rode in on
What was left was
clear azure sky
Holding a new sound
authored by birds
Toby’s
soft breath
Inside this dome of space
Oh most definitely,
dogs speak
in the secret language
translated by those
who love them beyond
logic
The sun shoots a cannon
across the ridgeline of the trees
paralleling the emerald horizon
Pouring golden syrup over the eastern trunks
of exhausted autumn trees
The sunrise casts a spotlight
over
this magical stage
pulling back the curtain
over the
enchanted valley floor
Dec 1, 2020
Dec 1, 2020 at 3:16 PM UTC
At the beach house
you don’t need much
an old mossy table
the boards
collaged in pine needles
a firepit
domed by scorched
trees huddling
stitched together
as one quilted canopy
hoping for wisdom below
A snappy fire
fanning air
that
grows crisp
and birds
the birds
oh the birds
their songs above
always their songs
around.
Nov 13, 2020
Nov 13, 2020 at 10:12 AM UTC
Sunrise quiet
hiking through
the dropping blush of autumn
the morning after election day
inside the trails of forested
trees that were not allowed
a vote
coming upon a canyon
splitting
the un-United States
down the spine
pondering the illusion
of human separation
We reach down and *****
a bridge
sweeping
over the chasm
Next,
we tie a rope swing
to the oak branches above
and unmoor the canoes
from the cedar docks below
Americans stand on
each side,
holding up
similar signs
clear in
truth and oneness
our shared desires
and basic needs
The signs
reading;
Freedom
Safety
Health
Respect
Home
Work
Joy
&
repeating grandly,
over
and over;
******
Love.
Slowly,
as the drops
of dew transform
to puddles
and the sun
lifts to crown
us all in lemon light
we raise up
our shovels
and begin
the work of
filling in the
imaginary
canyon
That once
suffered
divide.
Nov 4, 2020
Nov 4, 2020 at 11:57 AM UTC
In the vastness
of the drafty
slat wooden
house,
along the tidal
lettered
streets
of Gearhart;
Snapping images
with waning
filtered light
inside the darkness,
waiting for ghosts
to drift out of
the
shadows,
wondering if my
family's past
have to wait in line
behind
the house spirits
to announce themselves;
Asking us why
we almost
always keep a light
on
In time,
will I leave
a small energy
stamp
after I cross,
ghosting
it out
inside
degrading buildings
after waiting in line
questioning
why
the living
worry so much
and live
so little
Oct 11, 2020
Oct 11, 2020 at 9:03 PM UTC
One loaf of bread
swinging
inspiring us down
to the edge of a
dawning
bay
From their slumbered hiding
one gull
multiplying
swooping
hovering
devouring
the crumbs,
each other,
Turning
the morning
light on
overhead.
What worries?
Soar
together.
Oct 11, 2020
Oct 11, 2020 at 9:02 PM UTC