December 22nd, 2008

alan - winter bird


I woke at four, wide awake and tingly.  This time of year, this whole week, feels like Christmas to me, the vibrating spirit of love and light.

Santa is seen everywhere, and I don't have to explain about helpers and elves, just enjoy the different looks of Santa as he waves and waves, standing in the courtyard at the Depot in MV or sitting in his sleigh in other places.   Perhaps it is the dark, but this time of year seems magical to me. 

Yesterday I was downstairs searching for our Christmas stockings, when I looked out the window and a deer was looking in at me.  She looked like a statue, she was so still, and then, an ear moved, and I saw breath through her chest.   We stood looking at each other for the longest time.  She was wet in the rain and a part of me wanted to invite her in.   I wonder now how often I let the muse sit outside of my heart, instead of saying, welcome, enter here, and I know there is a place to let the muse run wild.  Only some moments are meant to be tamed and the point is to know when to reach and when to sweetly wait for entering to begin.

Book Cover

Beauty Everywhere -

Coming Out of Wal-Mart

by Mark DeFoe

The child, puny, paling toward albino,
hands fused on the handlebars of a new bike.
The man, a cut-out of the boy, gnome-like,
grizzled, knotted like a strange root,
guides him out, hand on the boy's shoulder.
They speak, but in language softer than hearing.

The boy steers the bike as if he steered
a soap bubble, a blown glass swan, a cloud.

On the walk they go still. Muzak covers them.
Sun crushes. The man is a tiny horse,
gentle at a fence. The boy's eyes are huge
as a fawn's.

      He grips hard the orange and pink,
and purple and green striped handlebars,
smiling the fixed sweet smile of the sainted.

"Coming Out of Wal-Mart" by Mark DeFoe, from The Green Chair. © Pringle Tree Press, 2003.