Desert Light

Bright desert
Not so much dry as it is bright
For the yellow grass grows from some source
It is not brittle, just frothy and wispy and wavy
And the longhorn cattle quench their thirst
In the cottonwood groves deep in the canyon
where ancient people cooled their mouths from earthenware
and matched the rugged tumbling rock etched against sky
with outlines
of their cheekbones
dancing by the fire
in the crisp bright night

Janice Haynes, returning from Double Circle Ranch, Eagle Creek, Arizona, photo by Ryan Dressler
November 19, 2010

Time travel

the usher
time
leaned far forward
beckoning me
she gestured
gleaming as my whole
realized complete
shining self
asking just a little bit more
knowing I could do it

irreplaceable

All your expectations
that I disappoint
I see you tightening your lips
and curtaining your thoughts
but I feel them
like a big wave drenching me
I hold my ground and
love you
irreplaceable you
wishing I could be all
you meant for me to
be

Riding to the creek

And yes, I again move with my legs as horse's legs
my hips horse hips
my mind a horse's mind
moving four legged
in the corn fields of Kentucky
gifted this perfect day
with friends and my children
all astride
bigger than life
we amplify our souls
to the cadence of hoof beats
and wander to the creek
our feet transversing railroad tracks
and tractor paths and
alfalfa fields
moving past antique barns
and silos reaching skyward
lingering in water up to our bellies
we are horses playing on limestone rocks
yesterday's children
still young at heart

Big Creek Picnic Area

When spirit calls
and moves the body
when it is summer
my mind travels first
to the river
and then the keys are found
the picnic packed
and I go
to icy water
that makes me wonder if summer
is even here or will ever come
I linger at the edge and all the children play
Then I enter, childlike, seeing only splashing water
I frolic on the rocks

passionate arrival

And crafting within time
when an infinite spirit moves into form
this universal embrace
starts counting silverware
and being content
with one or two things
yet some of us
want more
not because we care about owning
or doing
just because we are still
star travelers
and so excited to be here

A butterfly garnish

Today a butterfly
landed on my fruit plate
Chef that I am I delighted
in the garnish of dark blue wings
and royal blue and orange playing
with the pineapple and watermelon
already a colorful array
with a playful toss of trail mix
to add even more color
and then you came along
breathing with your wings
breath of God

cathedral steps

and today
serving breakfast by the creek
I deliberately placed the folding table
far enough away from my cooking fire
so that I could walk the cathedral steps
down to the river
carrying the blessing of food
being blessed by the water
rushing by
we salute each other
I with my joyous heart
you with your jubilant voice
up and down I go the many steps
over roots and rocks
a well worn path
like neurons in the brain
remembering ancient ways

journeying together

Two embracing life together
Each others witness to greatness
For the knowing of the heart
In love sees the flame of desire
Flickering into being
Expressing as passion
Adoration
Songs that must be sung
Dreams that must be lived
This wealth of being
Plays as children
And holds hands into the night
Walks under stars
And witnesses first morning light
Two made one
neither lost in the oneness
Always the dialogue
The other
I and thou
Joyously unknown

Happy Anniversary, Warren and Lisa!

By Janice Haynes

darning needles or ballerinas?

And I chose to swim down the French Broad River
yesterday, following the inner tubes and fun-yaks
flowing with my head upstream, feet up
moving with the water
bumping over rocks and pushing off
down tiny waterfalls
the rocks were softly carpeted with
aquatic grasses, a cushion
and the darning needles, the little dragonflies, perched
on the emerging green rocks, fuzzy islands,
hundreds on their little mat just above the waves
with about a fifth of them
balancing their slender tails on the
heads of their neighbors, wings outstretched
a balancing feat
worthy of the New York City ballet

Screenplay

So this problem is a portal

A way to see my inner reckonings

Projecting as the screen of my life

And I can rearrange the script

I can see what I believe by observing my life

Just as I can watch a movie and know it was carefully directed

So I contrive my life from my subconscious

And then my conscious mind can see what is within me

And how, if I don’t like the screenplay,

Can I wander into this portal of being and

Reconstruct my world?

How can I recenter myself and recreate?

How can I outplay a dream worthy of my being?

I hear the simple words that remind me to be still.

I move into the soul of all

And sway with the trees and the grass

I play like a puppy and chew everything bumpy and rough

I splash over rocks in the river and

My feet touch the rocks and the soft water splashes over my skin

Soft and cold. My eyes are the level of the water

And I am a fish or a dragon fly or a bubbling white wave

I choose to create myself alive, divine, well, blessed

And a gentleman
visiting my inn
owned a plumbing company
and engineered the fix
to the oil well, so simple, over dinner by the river
he says they have to know
the only reason it isn't fixed
is so they can keep drilling
the other hole
only reason we are being drenched in black
is so the other hole can be finished
then watch, he said, they will fix the old hole
because then they can get to the oil
the new hole won't let off pressure
it can't, it is too small, but it can
give them access to their riches
and fixing the old hole before the new one is finished
will cut them off from it forever
so we must be awash in black until mid August
unless a hurricane comes and makes it longer
before the simple knowledge of wedging the hole is
applied
Bill knows they know,
just not willing to risk losing the well
that is all
their hole is the only one allowed to be drilled now,
no desire to be stopped
must have a reason

Today the world
bowed its head
and prayed for animals
and fish and birds
and living things
and livelihood
seems small
compared to life
gone forever

sultry summer

Sultry summer
like a wet damp
drooping misery
soaks to my bones
and I remember
how the cold sank there
too
and this is better

and when I planned to
throw it away
a friend mentioned
there is no "away"
our small planet
is home to everything
we create

A Skipping Stone

A skipping stone leaps
across the water
up, up, up, upupup
then down spiraling
leaving little dancing waves
that reach out for each other
in every direction

Mountain Laurel in Spring

When pink races into bloom
to gentle me
and fusses up
in mindfulness
of joy
I gather just a few
blossoms
reaching down with my nose
privately
my inhale a question
how many senses can you
(politely)
dazzle?

Fireflies first dance

When fireflies first dance
in the meadows
deep into the rainy night
just clearing for them
and high heavy headed grasses
bend their heads
in worship
swaying
hoping to be touched
by tiny torchlight

Soaring: in memory of Shelly

When a precious one leaves
for no apparent reason
and life is dropped like trousers
my spirit knows I am still
embraced by my beloved one
there is no betrayal here
for leaping in and out of time
is second nature
I feel my breath more dear
missing hers
I touch my skin and
reverently live my dreams
passion keeps me here
and my hand touches hers
in a mind cathedral of light
she brightens my perception
and memories gladden my heart
as she tries out her new ethereal body
I nourish mine with wholesome food
in her honor
and laugh
(she would want me to be playfully alive)
I am etched forever in her heart and she in mine
I am her breath now
I am turbo charged with love

wildflowers

Not looking for your name
Just being here with you
and wondering if I will recognize
you when your bloom is gone
by the little leaves so bright
gathering sunshine in this deep woods
will I know you then?

Griffin

When a blue eyed dog
sleeps on top of my feet
to be sure he doesn't miss a step
and cocks his head to hear
dog language
wondering why I speak
so like the brook
and not in whines and
woofs
I know hearts are true
and love is in the world

eager summer

Impatient summer
leaping into spring
like puppies romping
dogwood not even fully bloomed
and heat wilting the blossoms
this cool night will come
and then another
so evening and early morning is all
we have left of spring
still by hidden forest trails
creeks coolly play
leaves tiny and bright
a forest shiny and new
eager for summer too

fiddle head ferns, Great Smokies spring

daffodils give way to
trilliums
while fiddle head ferns
unfurl in deep woods
creeks rush by
too swift but to glance
at this music so slowly set to time
that the beat is syncopated with silence
and the rhythm of
dark starry nights and dogwood winters and rainy boggy days
and translucent dawns

by Janice Haynes, poet

Spring prayers

when yellow plays
and jumps from rainbows
down to wave at me
through a forsythia bush
and daffodils gather on
forest floors
bonnets tossing
daintily serving tea

I choose to believe time is moving forward
not back
and beneath the white snow on the mountains
wildflowers poise to spring



copyright Janice Haynes, Poet
USA March 29, 2010