Spring breezes in
And curtains billow,
Like warm mammalian lungs
Like waves of ocean curling.

An unseen pulse,
Being makes it so.
We yearn to understand it,
but, .... no.

Why do we choose ugly?
Eve, and the snake beautiful too
We, blind kittens and rodents,
Deny our vulnerable view.

Super-sizing, driveling exotic equations,
Greed-anger-jealousy-and-lies,
Botox, false eye-lashes, grotesque purple lips cracking,
And Earth, momma-Goddess sighs. She sighs.

Eons of tragic theater played on life's stage: "Self-clinging is killing me!"

Wars whisper: “Clinging to wrong views is killing us all....”

Spring breezes in...
Earth inhaling is enough,
Is pure
Is today.

Exhale my love,
Surrender fear to our compost.
Earth has a finger on your pulse.
Being makes it so.

hammer
nails
wood.
BANG
BANG
BANG.
house.

Three striped cats daily demonstrate awakening:

a) BijaChen: startles by pounce onto bed or banging of sunlit window blinds;
b) BlueMonsoon: prefers annoying whining coordinated with scratching at blankets;
c) LadyFiona: chooses a prickly psychic stare into my sleeping consciousness to disrupt dreams. (she must have been a witch's cat).

Sleep you say?

Mr. Rooster, lover of Flathead Lake cherries,
rehearses a  solo operetta while strutting sharp grey claws inches from the screen door.

Doze off?

Thirty small brown-red-yellow-speckled birds usurp seeds at the swinging feeders in frenzied unharmonious clatter,

While the low moan of iron hinged gate closes pale hay and tall horses into the corral.

Rest?

Urgently a  growling lawn mower slashes green strands of life and delicate insects from their microcosms of Little Earth,

And calico barn cats dive from rafters onto feed sacks to devour the crunch of breakfast.

Lao Tzu speaks no sound, eyes watch

Two butterflies sweep though moist morning monsoon air.

Pine needles
Pine cones
Pine floorboards and beds,
Pining for a lover can make you lose your head.

Pine tar for turpentine,
Pine nuts to chew,
Pining for years long gone,
And a tango prance for two.

Pine woods deep and long,
Crisp kindling underfoot,
The compost here is lush and dark,
And bright insects crawl the root.

A drizzling breeze through pines is calming,
With rain clouds moist and full.
Yet headwinds of grey-orange smoke,
Make nineteen men the toll.

For when the pines are exploding,
And the Yarnell fire burns through,
Who but the stones will be here mourning,
A green love so fresh and true?

It stretches, restless for life,
In odd dreams it's boldness frightens me,
Then sits impatiently while I dress for work.

It hums truth with the sunrise,
Yearning to leap out when the car stalls,
And lead the homeless man to a warm breakfast.

Boredom is hell and torture,
Serpent strangling sanity, blood bloated brain ,
But the creativity...it will not die.

Chorus:
It will never die, (clap)
It can never die, (clap)
Yes, all that is born will die, (clap, clap, clappety clap)
But the unborn... (raise arms to heaven),  oh my oh my (wave hands), jes heave a sigh (spin around),  no worries honey-pie (exhale sigh), 'cause It will never die!

[repeat with increasing volume and spinning frenzy until you are dizzy].

(long silence.  .   .   .   .  with palms together bow humbly to dharmakaya; the true emptiness of compassion and wisdom).

Anne is 97.
"Oy, the bones!"

Walking ain't easy
Sitting draws pain.
"I use a heating pad."

Her pink house is a shrine
with 2 T.V. altars.
"I'm so lucky."

Marilyn is 72.
"I ran my own modeling agency."
She orchestrates care,
for her mother Anne,
for husband Manny.

("He had a stroke.")
and for Debbie,
her daughter with M.S.

"WHO TOLD YOU SHE HAD M.S. ???!!!!"
screamed her text.

I pause, . . . . .
Volcanic fissures of paranoia erupt weekly.
(she's tired, living on that last nerve, Om..... I must forgive... forgive... forgive...).

"You did" I reply.

Anne,
Marilyn,
Manny,
and
Debbie.
And the pink house altars chanting.
Chanting greed.
Chanting wanna be, wanna more, wanna wanna om wanna wanna....

The ****-you-with-boredom soaps and talk shows blast from all T.V.s,

"ELLEN looks more like a man everyday, I like KATIE," she declares, as I quietly shut the door.