Gather

Observatory. November 2024. Image, my own.

Gather

So here we gather
On this bright and
Dark day in the Fresh
World, to see if there
Is a turkey of love
Between us– siblings,
cousins, lovers, parents,
Friends. And there it
Is– LOVE– carved out
For us in some miracle
Since the creation of the
Cosmos scuttled us
All together on this blue-
Green blessing of a planet
Quantum journey, accidental
Adventure, maybe in another
Life we don’t know one another
We haven’t stood witness
To one another’s joy and
Pain. But here, now
We are the people we
Know and love because
Of particles of song shared
Between us, and mud
Fights on Thanksgivings
Long ago, and stories that
Have connected us all
Bringing us to this
Moment– to Gather to
Settle softly into miraculous
Gratitude. Thank you
I love you. Forgive me, I forgive
You. I love you. All love.

Art Center. November 2024. Image, my own.


Other Ghosts

So now there are other ghosts
The angels of the past have
Come to comfort and protect,
To bring peace and stability
I don’t know how I know, but
Others feel it too, they enter
They awe, I feel the ancestors
In the daily spirals of
My existence, the soil of
My backyard, the song of
The trees and birds in the
Ancient ash. Many others
feel them, too, and tell me
They are near, they are
Present. I know that I am
Not the only one who has
Ever been separated from
My alter, my shelter, my
Building, my dreams torn
For a vision of the future
I could not ascribe
I’m learning each day
That each ancient has
Been sent as a guide
The present and the
Beyond, they’ve become one

Fall-Winter Bridge. November 2024. Image, my own.

One

Of the most powerful
Things happened to me
And I can both be humane
And protect myself against
Smiling scoffs, unkind people
Who would make a mockery of
Pain, I am so glad that I can live
My life wild and free, I was
Given a second chance at
Love, at happiness
You too?
I will never take that for granted,
My joy– that joy will go on to
Fill me, myself, my people
And all the rivers of song

Community Garden. November 2024. Image, my own.

The “Last” Great Thanksgiving

That’s what the menu read
And then they were all gathered
In one place—humans—with the
Most similar genetic makeup of
Any group of sapiens on planet
Earth. Siblings. And it was good

Woods– lovely, light, dark, deep. November 2024. Image, my own.

Evolve

Scrub Oak in Transition, September 2024. Image, my own.

Autumn Equinox

there is this balance,
this even-keeled consciousness,
an equanimity of the breath
in the air this time of year,
the night and the day coming
into equilibrium, living and dying
reflected in the vegetation,
the need for both action and
rest, moving and pause, all
things in their time and space

Rubber Rabbitbrush, September 2024. Image, my own.

Evolve
-for the elders who’ve shone
a light along the way

I’ve been watching the course
of Life more closely as
I’ve neared ‘halfway’

I’m totally clear, I may die tomorrow
of a fungal infection brought
on by an errant hang nail

This year, I started to see
and understand some parts
about this journey called life,

Facets that had never been
open to me before,
that had never been revealed

In youth. I began to witness
the power of personal
human evolution.

I’m sure I’ve seen it displayed
previously, but now, it seemed
closer, more raw and real

The strength, the peace,
the solidarity, and grounding
that some humans

Offer themselves and others
when they choose to live
with their arms stretched

Up to the divine, when
they’re moving forward in
purpose while trusting the

Siren song of the universe
to guide them to good ends,
and over hard roads, too, don’t

Mistake. I don’t think that
living this evolution is simple
in any way. To allow the

Lessons that life has offered
you to be inculcated into
your core, this isn’t a flat

Path, rather peaks and valleys, I see
my mother who pursues her
passions like watercolor and arts

Grant writing without
prompting or celebration,
and steadily understands

what she loves, what she
holds dear and then lifts
up those elements of her

Life, tending to her own
garden of desire, she invests
her best self in her and us.

All I’m saying is that for a
very long time I felt completely
perplexed with the recipe of this

thing I was witnessing–
evolution– my septuagenarian
friends, were practicing this

Art of living with purpose, too,
with love and with a fair dose
of spicy ironic interjection

Swimming every day,
hiking all over the hills
and valleys of our home

They were another of my
sign-posts. And my uncle,
who spoke the eulogy at

My aunt’s celebration of
life, a woman who also
lived and gave her life over to joy,

He has also chosen
to live in the miracle of the
era of man, to let life

Be the ocean, the teacher, and
he became the student,
he’s allowed those learnings

To become part of him
in the way he loves his
children, the way he acts

In community, the way he carries
the knowing that life will always be
a question, a universal

Query that we can only answer
by living more truly, more soundly,
more surely in verity

To that Flame that was lit within
us at our birth, the miracle of
existence realized, we evolve

Lights. September 2024. Image, my own.

On Being

be who you are and
who you can be,
and meet those two
verities inside yourself
with loving kindness
and compassion and
let it be enough to
experience the joy
of living as you see fit
as you love yourself

Andrew Wyeth Grasses, September, 2024. Image, my own.

Steady in the Fall

the sun and moon
move into equilibrium
waxing crescent to quarter

peloton of geese ride high in
the wide blue sky, calling
and answering back, headed south

flowers still bloom, delicate violet
saturated yellow, vibrant magenta,
as grass fades, sepia to umber

fully bronze dragon fly the size of
a silver dollar flickers past in the sun
chased by a saxe blue fly the same size

grasshoppers bunch on mustard rabbitbrush
in the sway of breeze next to dark-chocolate
velvet cattails, stalks steeped in pond-water

cooper’s hawk cries from the brush
high and free like an alter ego
finding the next rodent in the undergrowth

the air takes on the rush and pulse
of crisp wind as the sun’s rays angle
longer, cooling field, flower, and fly

Paul Klee, Night Flowers.

New Moon

Full Moon, February 23, 2024. Ryan Moat.

With a new moon and the beautiful transition to autumn upon us, some poems for your week, month, moment. XX, Megan

September

draughts of cool morning air
carried on dry-sighing leaves
respirate, whispering: rest, stay,
plan, see, manifest, begin, in every
breath the order and
organization of Earth
are upon us as gardens bear
fruit, hay is left to cure,
baled in sun waning
warmly in late afternoon
fields of golden bristle,
summer to fall, denouement
to eight months of moons
new and full and new again
transitions cyclical, circling
in the darkening sky
just after the last gasp
of cerise light crests over the
western mountains at sunset
wind chimes low and resonant
toning oooooh-aaaaah, bracing
rush and sweep of air transmits
that ocher timbre of September

Wasatch Mountains, September 2024. Image, my own.

Temple
for Danny and Kat, with love, M

Come into the temple
of my love for
I am sure about
its beauty and its
strength

Come into the temple
of my love for strength
can also mean softness,
stillness, peaceful respite,
home

I’ve learned that lives
change so quickly, so
surely, that surety is
difficult to process, to
prepare

But one thing I am
sure of is that as
the sun sets and the
stars rise, I will love
you

Through the night,
and as the sun rises
on the next morn, in
communion with the coming
day

In shelter of our shared
humanity, loyalty,
commitment, love, and
serenity we weather
storms

Of life together,
centered as we enter
into the temple
of our
love

Book Room, August 2024. Image, my own.

V Yourself:
Violet and Verstue

vivacious
viridity
verve
visceral
vital
vulnerable
voluptās
virtu
verity
volant
vociferous
vehement
violaceous
varsal

Hay Bales and Timpanogos. August 2024. Image, my own.

Let There Be Joy

Let there be joy all
around you

Humming, thrumming
in the air above

Your body, the conduit
from the outside in

That electricity
of savoring the

Small, the ephemeral
first bite of a

Ripe peach the
stream as it licks

And leaps over
each stone, all things

Unabashed and still
known like the

Sun as it dapples
clouds and leaves

Each beam a special
reminder that life and

Love are meant for
you the first kiss

Of a new love fresh
on your lips

Double Rainbow over Strawberry Reservoir. August 2024. Jamie Hagan.

Saturday Dreams

A Saturday trio of sweet poems. I hope you have a deliciously lovely day. XX, Megan

—–

What is this place?

This gorgeous sunny
Saturday of possibility
This stillness of warmth
This cradle of rest
I think I’ll stay

—–

First Day

It feels like the
first day

of the rest
of my life

As near-autumn sun
warms my face

The cat licks her soft
tummy and dainty

paws clean near
my thigh

warm, brown sugar
coffee steams in

my hand. The soft
beat of the night

falls aways and I
can revel in the new day

cricket noise dwindles and chirps,
finch, sparrow, flicker

songbirds are chittering from
the branches of an old

cottonwood, the sun soaks
into every port

the first day unfolds
before me

—–

“Love doesn’t just sit there, like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; remade all the time, made new.” Ursula K. LeGuinn

Grew Some This Season

As the crepey pumpkin leaves
turn into tiny shards of
brown paper in my hand

I am reminded of the circle
of all things, the beauty and reality
of dust

The empty brown cocoons of the peas,
just husks of the tender
green life-casings they once were

From leaf to vine, now
is the harvest time
the time of gathering in

And this year my garden
blossomed, bloomed, produced
and grew in abundance

Bounty and the bearing of the
fruit remind me that I
too have grown

I am rich with new understandings
new scars, too, yes,
but a seeing, a stillness

A silence that hasn’t possessed
me for a long, long time
in its renewal– peace