Heart Happy (cathy_edgett) wrote,
Heart Happy

Morning Poems -


July 24, 2007


How softly the long grasses

lean as they grow

tapping a tune

of one world

and the next.

They connect earth and sky,

spur lungs to fruit,

lie down

as owner and guest.




I love to sit on my father’s grave

near a tree looking up at the sky.

I don’t know why I don’t find it sad,

but I see him as always outside,

never inside working, only out playing,

his new life

a water-sky slide.




Measured Content


I might not use the word longing.

I feel unfamiliar with it -

but others use it, and so I step into what it might mean

to long and stretch -

I tend to live like a roly-poly bug,

rolled into a self-contented ball.

So, now, I lean into the wide reach and bend of caterpillar segments

lined up to munch one leaf and the next,

building steam for cocoon and wings,

preparing for a greater rest

where long and short, ball and stretch

have no context or boundaries -

no content, content.  




Step Into Your Own Longing



What is it to step into one’s own longing?


Is this the fairy tale story of over the sun

and behind the moon,

an elaborate tale of east and west, north and south,

looking for a feather or a grail?

Is this Dorothy dropped back into Kansas?


I work hard to open up to no possession,

or possessive,

no me, or mine - the mountain - thee,

and thou - ah, thou,

a mine.


I delve now to know

the river’s flow, the mountain stacks of gold.

In a rural part of England it is said

that a burning drake opens the night sky

to reveal a vein of gold down below.


Last night the moon traced a path,

burning bright coins

answered inside

a life in time.


Coins spent and given,

round edges of longing,

even as the exchange,






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