Uncover The Sun




like a child

or a cat sprawled

wide asleep


That deep relaxation

in which your mind sighs

in relief, your body

sinks into renewal


Rest among the clucking

chickens and birdsong

with the dark night stars



Here, safety

breathes every breath,

time moves snail slow,

nothing is everything


Calma, they say, calma,

when presence stretches time

into always enough

and accomplishes everything


Uncover the Sun



Blue navy waves

with white caps

and whales

greeting the clouds

with a blow and a spout

then a gray dive deep


Do you hear them, singing

songs of migration,

already ancient when the world

was fresh and the water

clear and salty

and certain


A whole concert

of hellos, welcoming

the newly born,

and a resonant keening

to mourn all those

who’ve sunk to the sand


With echoing calls of sorrow

and wonderment

at the surface songs

of humanity,

whose vain glory

blares loudly how great they art


Rough waves, and whales

dying to find cool waters

and always singing

for love of the sea,

their vast hearts full

of silence and sound

Uncover the Sun


It might be

a stiletto of words

thrust directly

into your heart


It might be

the casual indifference

of someone

who professed to love you


It might be



then broken


It might be

the gap between

what you do for love

and for money


It might be

loss after loss

of whatever or whomever

you held dear



has filled you

with that hard, sharp, dull

blade of despair


Whatever heavy

weights your shoulders

and crowds

your mind


Whatever has happened,

it isn’t you,

it isn’t the heart

you were born with


It isn’t the you

that delights

in sunsets

and mud puddles


It isn’t the you

that creates

as exuberantly

as any child


If you reach inside

deep, deeper still,

there you are,

yourself, unwounded

Uncover the Sun

Rocks and Ruins


What endures

may not be

what you thought

or even what you felt


Your life will fade 

into earth again,

as even stone houses

eventually crumble


But the rocks, 

whose offspring

are dust,

still remember the stars


And what you build

upon, even the dearest

foundation that falters,

leaves an imprint


That echoing place

of heart, of home,

lingers long past

any forgetting


Uncover the Sun



The house is emptying

itself of us,

our furniture and belongings


The walls stand politely

in their new coats

of paint


The windows wonder

how clearly the next dwellers

will see though them


Outside, the yard hunkers down

under its mulch and leaves

curious who will rake it next


The trees will welcome

whoever comes here,

as trees always do


The birds and squirrels

will chirp and chatter

in greeting


And we will be across the world 

in gratitude for everything

this house shared

Uncover the Sun



Fall into autumn,

let each leaf 

gently down


Or lift the tiny

leaves aloft

and fly them forth


However you let

things go,

open your arms


Surrender the dead

with your heart

tender and wide


Winter won’t be

quite as cold

then, with love

Uncover the Sun



Maybe life

is just a big bunch

of answers

to random questions


like the romance

of the dusky sky

with the gentleness

of the evening


or the sun sinking

into the embrace

of the horizon

with one last burst of light


or every smiling


that follows us

under the sun


or the shining awe

of your face

whenever you laughed

soul deep


Maybe life

is just one answer

to the question




Uncover the Sun

Working the River


Nature-made, the river

jumps the banks to curl

the earth in and under 

and down,

just as the sea 

reclaims its land

from that very first rising

out of its depths


Here, our house stands

bravely facing 

that watery uprising, 

and so

we work, bringing thick stumps

that once held 

towering trees aloft,

to edge the sinking earth


And then come boulders,

rough and heavy, to hold

the banks back, and hug

those former trees,

now stalwart soldiers

standing river guard,

while in between, 

the water seeps


Water always finds 

an opening,

and we invite it

to flow 

beyond our permitted

work, and the house,

man-made, sighs in relief

at its reprieve


At its best, work

does not destroy

but shores up, respects

nature’s pathways,

employs the labor

of man and tree and rock,

and preserves the life

of water, and of land


Uncover the Sun

Lion Stars

a constellation
of lion stars roar
in pride light
across the night sky,
“We are family!”

Here, constellations
bear the weight
of major and minor
as if stars sing in scales
instead of waves
we’ve forgotten

We’ve forgotten
our stardust souls
once twinkled together
in infinite space
connected completely
by the sound of light

We are separated
by nothing more
than an idea
of gaping emptiness
that we endlessly
long to bridge

And we pluck
from each other
the remainder
of light we have left
like dying stars grasping
for illumination

Look up!
Somewhere, lion stars
roar in pride
against the night
and remind us
we are family

Uncover the Sun


The sky hears
the musical movement
of every v-shaped stanza
of migration

The sky knows
every bird that floats the currents,
every plane that touches a cloud,
every rocket that blasts past

The sky sings
in a thunderous chorus
and in the soft tones
of raindrops

The sky mourns
every species
that never walks or crawls or flies
on earth again

The sky loves
every first breath
and every last
it has ever shared