the gift of a day

clarity with the morning

first light calls songbirds to chirp and tweet and warble,

they’re almost frantic in their flight

as if they’re late and rushing to be somewhere,

an occasional heron or raptor 

purposefully makes its way to another somewhere,

today we aim to push ourselves a bit,

so we drive to the other side of the range

and pull ourselves up a high valley--

lush with ponderosa pine, Douglas fir, and Engleman spruce,

here flowers wild themselves everywhere

as if every turn in the trail is a new garden:

great swaths of golden yellow from arrow-leaved balsam root,

masses of precise purple larkspur join them on the dry slopes,

while bluebells crowd the dropping creek,

flower after flower call to our eyes and my camera,

how wonderful it is

that our bodies still rise to the challenge to respond

to what our souls call to us

to know, to love, to appreciate,

and how wondrous it is that the universe has gifted me

with a partner that completes me at the heart,

and helps me rise to where the present can gift me with such a day.
 

by Henry H. Walker

June 19, ’13

a haze on the lens

I feel dulled. . .

I feel dulled,

the sheer effort of a school year

and then getting out here to Wyoming

hazes the lens through which

the outside tries to touch me: 

the towering snowy rocks of the Tetons

contrast against the flat green lushness of the Snake River valley,

a heron displays for us with casual power,

3 elk meander downslope and across field,

and I know I should be mightily moved,

but I’m not all here yet:

the keen edge of my cutting through 

to what is real enough to shake me, 

that edge is dulled,

the white of a waxing Moon overhead

is mirrored in head and tail of an eagle flying by,

yet I am drawn more to the white of the sheets 

which call me to sleep.

by Henry H. Walker

June 17, ’13

into a new state

plane as chrysalis

we enter the plane in one state

and for a long period we are contained in a long metal tube,

where we cannot move much,

the plane so like a chrysalis that protects us while we change,

we busy ourselves with distraction

while the plane hurtles itself to a new place,

inside, sleep and random dream call to us,

and we change,

so that we can be released, 

into a new state.

images courtesy of Google Images
by Henry H. Walker

June 17, ’13

Shen Wei out

a performance of dance

before we drop back into a state

where humans are but guests and animals are at home,

to where the art is of rock and blossom,

and of what animals express 

in their species-long contention to be, and to reproduce,

we attend a dance performance of the best 

of what we as a country can reveal,

of gifted, precise, brilliant movers,

who within a dominant director’s vision,

express their own exuberant improvisations,

a performance all high-tech with lights, sound, stage, video,

I deeply hope that when we soar we are worth the effort

in a world that does demand minus after minus

to allow for what can be plus after plus.

Dancers, artists seem so worth the effort, 

and it’s tragic how little we want to pay them.

image courtesy of Google Images
by Henry H. Walker

June 15, ’13

the tree we need

out of balance

the mother bear and her cubs found the Chinese Chestnut tree,

its sweet nuts just ready for her and her young,

so she climbed the tree and spent her day

breaking off branches and dropping them to the ground,

about 1/4 of the tree roughly pruned away

and the dead branches, stripped of chestnuts,

littered the ground like after an American picnic in the 1950s,

I watch squirrels assault my bird feeder

and I recognize that same mentality for “me and mine,”

when we humans stopped limiting our numbers

we did so not because we alone don’t care about balance,

instead, we alone have the power to fully act on our desires,

the bears’ hunger and ours are kin,

we humans need to fit ourselves back into balance

into a reality that won’t kill the tree we need to live.

by Henry H. Walker

June 11, ’13

awake to revelation

a transcendent reality

the West draws me. . .

I often say:

“Just throw a dart at a map of the West.

Wherever it lands, you can have an amazing adventure. . .”

when I get right down to it, though,

that’s what I feel about every day, wherever I am,

if I’m open to what the moment can release,

there’s a poem, a picture, 

a transcendent reality, always, 

just beyond a blind grasp,

that transcendent reality can be 

just within what we can notice

when we are awake to revelation.

by Henry H. Walker

June 5, ’13

in tribute

Kim Marie Walsh

what a considered life she lived!

appreciative of beauty, wherever it could be found,

particularly in the classic perfection of ballet,

in the natural grace of the sunflower,

and in her two children whose casual studied sureness was a joy to her,

she was also blessed with a partner 

with whom the world could be so right,

Kim worked hard to help others be happy,

a rightness when she could take care

of a husband, a child, a friend, a colleague, a neighbor,

her cooking was amazing

and people were drawn to her table

for her delicious Manhattan rice salad,

her hatred of unhealthy food a powerful drive for her,

though she also was sure that food was supposed to taste good,

she tried whole wheat pasta and went back to white,

and desserts definitely needed the requisite sugar,

ice cream and dark chocolate a treat, though not to be over-indulged,

she loved to run,

with the body allowing the spirit to be free,

the world a wonder to appreciate as she moved lightly through it,

other places and countries gates through which she felt a welcoming,

with her beloved Dan, Hawaii, was where to go for a pre-honeymoon,

Duke Chapel where to get married,

Alaska’s wonder where to go for a honeymoon,

Kim grew up in the heartland, 

in the gorgeous rolling hills of Wisconsin,

her father a doctor, a general practitioner,

her mother, devoted to making a home,

coming east to college at Dartmouth

and loving English as a major,

loving books and the way they would transport her to another world,

then following a path like her father’s,

following her dreams to medical school at Duke,

practicing for a time, 

then directing medical services for Burlington and, after that, Durham,

settling into Blue Cross/Blue Shield

as a way to use her training and care for others

so that she could make the necessary decisions of what insurance would pay for,

Kim listened to her body

and counseled that one should not push the body beyond what it is capable of,

loving running but not pushing herself beyond what the body could tolerate,

how can anyone truly know the pain her body and soul felt the last years?

the nerves in her back demanding to be served,

particularly the sciatic nerve, who shouted at her,

and denied her the wonderful release of the movement of running,

her mind slipping into depression,

as gate after gate seemed to close around her

and pain filled every moment,

tears and withdrawal into her room

answers that only barely worked for her,

and she could not take it any more,

even in her last message,

she did her best to take care of those she loved:

that each could have done nothing more or better,

that it was her time,

and she acted on that sureness.

by Henry H. Walker

May 15, ’13