She whispers my name... Only I can hear

Thursday, September 25, 2008

Night Flight

Tropical depression
Gathers her winds and rains
Moves on to keep appointments
With the St Laurence
And the Grand Banks off Nova Scotia
Clear skies and sunshine
Move in

The Sun falls low
A barely discernable chill
Belies the stillness of the evening
And speaks to me
Of a North wind
Blowing high above
I can feel it from here

I am not alone
Down at the river
They feel it too

The high winds send
Thin wisps of cloud
Scurrying Southward
Painted with fading sunlight
Red pink orange yellow violet

As Darkness
Fills the deep places
Under brush and bush
I see the full moon
Lifting limb
Over the treetops

From the river
I hear their voices
Not the usual tenor
For this time of day

They carry an air
Of excitement bringing
Tonight the voices do not settle
Into the evening singing

Instead they escalate
And I feel a thrill
As I realize
What they debate

Night Flight

I settle back into my chair
Bracing flannel
Against a growing chill
In the expecting air

It is a good time
To be connected
It is a good time
To be

The voices from the river
Rise to a crescendo
Then fall to a quiet clamor

Moments later
I hear them above
I strain to catch a glimpse
Of a black wedge
Against indigo and moonlight
As they pass overhead

Canada Geese
Can sense North and South
In a blind fog at midnight

They know the stars
Can navigate by them
As ancient mariners did

They know the topography
And the landmarks
Can recognize them
By moonlight
From thousands of feet in the air

They know the weather
Can sense the shifting cells of air
Sense when to hunker down
And avoid storms and headwinds
To feed and for the journey south, prepare

And they know
When the time is right
To catch powerful tail winds
To speed their journey south
Even if it means flying at night

Some will make south Jersey
By daybreak
A good three hundred miles or more
From where the river sings to me

I settle into my chair
Choice morsels slow cooking
Over hot coals
Good company

As the night progresses
More flights pass
Some right overhead
Some further away
My heart leaps
Just at the sound
And Dingo looks up at me

It is a good time
To be connected
It is a good time
To be

Friday, September 05, 2008

Big Magic

I walk outside
Coworkers complain
Complain about the heat
Complain about the humidity
But I don’t

I sense
Something familiar
In the Air

Big Magic…
I can feel it
Smell it
Taste it

I can hear it
In the rising breeze
Unusual for this heat

The others do not notice
They say

"Hot out, for September"

I scarcely hear them

There is no mistaking it
Water and Air
Busy at work

They speak to me
Of the Ocean
Over one hundred fifty miles away

When you grow up by the shore
The Sea Air becomes a part of you
You do not forget it

Tropical storms
Send memories to me
I know it
As soon as I feel it

It will be raining here soon

The Hurricane winds hold
Waters gathered
From the coasts of Africa
And the mid Atlantic
Bourn on a throne of air
Aloft by the sheer will
Of the wind alone

To be distributed here
On the East coast of North America
Thousands of miles away
Expending the energy
Of a thousand atomic bombs
In the process

In this way
The Ocean gives
Her excess energy
To the Air

Part of a vast song
Of Water and Air
Helping to make this planet
A very nice place for life

When I go outside
To stand in my African rain

I will think for a moment
About my coworkers
Who will come in on Monday
And complain

Complain about how the rain
Ruined their weekend plans
As they gather around
The water cooler
To fill their bottles

And then I will sing
With the mighty Air and Water
Oh yes I will sing
And share a moment of their majesty

And their Magic