starlight and capes (revis'd)

once

a white-haired man

told me:

imagine—

            any time of day,

starlight showers down

over us—

like invisible

love….

because you know,

(he continued)

even though sunlight

outshines the stars by day—

still they twinkle on

in disguise

and behind….

oh what a precious non-secret

to carry around next to my heart!

•

some mornings

i swing despair on

like a cape,

or a robe….

sometimes it is the tablecloth i sit down to….

sometimes

i resolve

to hang it back

in the closet

with the old clothes—

(the ones

i really need

to give away….)

and i take out hope,

shake the dust out of its folds,

and try it on—

so awkward, right now:

neither one fits!

•

so

i take them both off,

and they lie in small heaps

 on the floor….

i stare at them,

mystified….

how do you live without one

or the other?

•

yesterday

in the blazing heat,

a (wise) young man said:

true peace happens

when you give up

both hope

and despair….

•

tonight

i walk out into the quiet

warm air—

the fireworks

have blown themselves out….

the revelers

have gone indoors….

the words of the old man

and the young

ribbon through my memory….

and up on the hillside,

out from under the trees—

i hold my skirt with both hands

like a basin

for catching stars….

_____________________

©2016

beth anne boardman

midnight wind chimes

wandering around the house at midnight,

on a secret mission

(for tums

or advil

or something else i’ve forgotten) --

i am akin to silence:

we are partners in the night.... 

creeping through her,

(silence, yes, feels like a ‘she’....)

with her, around her,

we do our care-full duties....

•

then breezes

stir the windchimes on the deck,

drawing my gaze outward:

silverglow from the moon,

muffled under wooly cloud,

and underneath,

even birds hunker....

•

silence and i pause on our rounds

and take in the breeze,

the chimes,

the hunkering birds,

and we hug ourselves just a little bit –

grateful for shelter,

and children,

and each other....

__________

©2015

beth anne boardman

the path at the edge of the sea

on the southwestern shore

at the edge of the sea,

a path appears sometimes....

it leads not over the tawny hills

burnished with golden crackling grass

and dotted with cockle burrs….

it doesn’t wander the sandy dunes

chasing the inconstant breeze….

or seek for shade under the eaves of

crumbled greying bluffs….

it shifts and moves—

rides the tides,

lifting and falling

through translucent night....

when the planet aligns,

so that moon and fog and earth and sea

are all in agreement,

a rolling fountain of diamonds appears….

to any who come to the shore

and brave their inner silence….

free enchantment….

riches….

secrets revealed….

to those who look….

•

we stand here

all alone,

we think….

encapsulated in our skin….

our thoughts….

yet filled with

whirling energy….

electrons and protons zinging

constantly through our charged bodies….

we glow with hidden life….

we teem with what we cannot see….

like the waters….

the grasslands….

the secret standing woods….

the merest rocky outcropping

propels a thousand lives along their days….

and every moment,

a million possibilities

swirl in our direction….

•

have you once looked on

that shifting silver path?

those bright sparks

leaping, grouping,

dancing on the cold black liquid below?

have you ever

for a moment

imagined

walking out upon it….

to some undreamt-of future?

standing in the between

of earth and sea and sky….

we are as alone

as this glimmering path,

and as full of dancing sparks….

________________

©2015  Beth Anne Boardman