The Sitting Place; A Still Life

I am not moving.
Just in case
I cannot stand, I found
a sitting place.

Ornamental cherries
decorate a crowded scene.
Although I cannot eat them,
'to bite' is what I mean.

Open up the door
and a lion may come in,
but even when it's closed
the roaring may begin.

A rat will find the rot,
if the sour smell is potent.
In the freshness of the fruit
lies the seed of discontent.

Many are the chores.
They call me to be busy.
I won't listen anymore
to the voice that makes me dizzy.

I see a list of items
on my page of things to do,
but with hammer and a nail
I will find a way to screw.

I sit among the still-life
as a grape of dewy bliss,
but the passing of the ages
cannot make a wine of this.

There are symbols in a matrix,
and dry lessons in the rain.
Technology can play tricks.
Still life won't move again.

©  Brenneman T.  June 3, 2003

-----------------------------------------------

Whale Waste

An early stroller along the beach
searching for shells just before dawn
walks up to an unexpected mountain of blubber.

A blue whale has washed ashore.

She is shocked by the motionless mass,
and runs back to the closest hotel to notify others.

Soon everyone hopes to save a whale.

Minutes later, officials arrive,
and the gathering crowd parts to let them through.

All fall silent,
as an expert examines the beast carefully.

The falling tide laps at the huge tail.

It's going to be a hot one.

The crowd grows as the sun rises.
The area is roped off as scientists arrive.

Upon close examination of the aged bulk,
they find a shredded remnant of a synthetic garment
has obstructed the blowhole causing suffocation.

As it is pulled out,
a white protruding tag is clearly legible.
A news camera strains to focus in on it.
Millions see it on TV:
"Dry Clean Only."

©  Brenneman T.  June 10, 2003

-----------------------------------------------

Rings of Gold

I thought the meaning clear and bad
of all the hours I lost, was sad.
But in the end time is my friend.
What I thought I lost appears again.

Now I am a stronger type;
calmer, knowing, without the hype.
Love's grip stretches deeper into me,
also branches farther, as a tree.

Winter may rob me of my leaf,
and cold winds blow without relief,
but now I grasp the cycle's flow;
and soon again the sun will glow.

I stand in darkness and in snow,
bare to howling winds, and ice below.
But in my trunk are rings of old.
They remind me of the coming gold.

©  Brenneman T.  June 11, 2003

-----------------------------------------------

Nice To...

Nice to have my Lab's paw protest, she turn her head
when I pause in rubbing her, resting, by my bed.
Nice to have honey flow sweet in honey bees,
hovering over pompom blooms among uncut clover leaves.

Nice to slow the analyzing of life's wrongs,
and see Sham rub her shiny coat on the lawn.
Nice to see her black side rise and fall among the green,
then turn curiously to snap at something unseen.

Nice to glimpse a goldfinch more yellow than the sun,
eating thistle set out in hopes of sighting one.
Nice to hear the music of Krishna Das, Live on Earth,
build into joyous rhythms, chanting refrains of growing girth.

Nice to move the logs of a dying willow oak tree,
and count with interest its rings that shaded me.
Nice to watch the opening of volunteer sun flowers,
and see how the waste of birds spurred growth in hours.

Yes, nice to be alive, appreciate the spring,
to hear the birds and Indians sing.
Nice to speak a word and feel it's touch.
So nice to be loved and love so much.

©  Brenneman T.  June 15, 2003

-----------------------------------------------

Mounting Mind

In dreams I ride the night.

As day, she tosses in sheets of light.
A mind, my stallion,
runs strong, eyes bright.

In dreams I ride the night.

©  Brenneman T.  June 21, 2003

-----------------------------------------------

Outside Shadow, Inside Light

In the fallen dust of tragedy
calm lifts her timeless face.
She shows no angst in circumstance,
opinion, outcome, or place.

She meets them all with level gaze,
no reaction or alarm they cause.
So is her peace consistent;
chosen movement, savored pause.

She knows fracas, fray and folly
are soon ash consumed and gone.
Her truth; integrity resides inside,
darkness foreshadows dawn.

©  Brenneman T.  June 24, 2003