Discovery Drafts

Your perfume  Permeates the air surrounding Old tooled leather bags Wool sweaters Floral paintings on velvet Hooked rugs Made from woolen clothing-- Scraps that have felt the press of life Transformed into something new. Your things, your memories of love and family. Your sweat is here And the sweat of ancestors Your portrait: sixteen, soft-skinned An honest gleam in your eye Confidence and love, joy in the gift Of your image You feel you and who you are  As the humid air makes every scent rich. The fragrance today Stops me, though.  You are here. You are not. I am.  I am not. I startle at the cry of the blue jay, Somewhat overfed and sassy And bringing me back: Here, here, here...

  “Honey.” Your voice woke me, Mom.   A midafternoon snooze On a day threatening storms And oppressive with mugginess, I slept finally On the couch, A way of knowing I am alive yet As I merely close my eyes In a place meant for sitting. It is for others to keep watch. I hear your voice As I arise in an empty room And return to  A broken heart. Where are you?

You lower the blinds at 4:30, Turning your back to the sun As you count out the pills For tomorrow morning And then give yourself permission To sit down In the early dark and quiet. Nobody is coming, But tomorrow will.   You have willed it. You are ready, And time moves on  Beyond the curtain But you are warm and safe, Coming to terms with time You dream You remember Calling in your children Before dark Keeping them safe Clean and warm and tucked in Glasses of water  Delivered in darkness Go to sleep.  See you in the a.m. The creak of box springs The promise of warm toast, oatmeal, and coffee. A new day. Go out there and come back. Bring a story. What you do  And always will  That is love Alive in the heart Surrounded by an incandescent house In the quiet As darkness comes closer  And you are alone.

  Understory Here is a miracle Fawn lies still for a month Hiding Mottled coat Blending with dappled light Of May, June Your priority is to get off a shot. Time and nature God said Let the earth bring forth The living creatures  After his kind, cattle, creeping things, And beasts of the earth, After his kind. And it was so.  God saw that it was good. So good. The limiting stage involves successfully bagging the limit. There, after his kind, In the mottled light The helpless fawn Awaits his mother At the trophy stage, the focus is now quality, not quantity. Foraging To return along The deer runs To the bedding area At dawn or dusk To feed her child Understory growth, berries. At the method stage, the focus is on how the kill is accomplished. How it goes Motherhood Buddha nature No hurting, no killing Enlightened, eating light In the understory. In the sportsman stage, the focus is on the process of the hunt And the companionship of other hunters, and  An appreciation of the animal being