Thursday, January 7, 2010

A Wash




New Years Day
In the morning gray
I am doing a wash
Best to start out clean.

The rest are sleeping it seems
Keeping their thought to themselves in their dreams,
Internals.

The birds come, chickadees,
And celebrate their luck
In a feast at the feeder.
The New Year comes for them
Everyday,
When they fly
Free to feed.
It falls to me the task of giving them thoughts.
As they keep their own
To themselves.

I drift in a moment,
Loosely contrived,
To the ledger of my year
And years,
And guilt-full,
Think about what has been
And yet might be.
I don’t revel in this thinking.
I’d rather keep my thoughts
From myself.
Yet I have been doing some house cleaning
Of late
Of a sort,
Throwing away
Giving away
Putting away
Accumulations
Which lead to inevitable ruminations.


And there I find things and places and people
Steadfasts,
Who are my favorites.
They brighten my days
And illuminate my dreams.
Each brings a tear.
And there too
Hidden in shadows and on front pages
Are things and places and people
Who darken my thoughts,
And cause me in public
And in private
To rail
And cringe.
They threaten.
Each brings a fear.
And I regret that I have not done more
Or at least done better…

Chickadee, I plea
Please explain your simplicity
And if you can
Reveal to me
Just one small thing
That makes you free.

And perhaps, instead
In days ahead
As a new point of view
A prayer, a plea
Drawn from these
The histories,
That I may not become awash
In painful doubt
And agonizing second thought,
But let it be
A wash
On this new day
And try the Chickadee way.
To celebrate
Without too much thought,
To be clean
And free,
And so self-taught.
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