a low winter sun

a hawk cries

under

this low winter sun—

(i wonder if hawks pray

for the return of the light....)

with a few strong wing-beats

and supreme aerodynamic design,

the great talons let go

and glide out over snowy expanses....

(the effortless mastery

the inborn skill

the unquestioning quest

under all conditions

slay me....)

while we cower or shiver or snuggle-in

and count the days to longer light,

to hope and warmth—

in the face of our constant

human doubt—

our frantic celebrations

and incantations,

the hawk searches for food

regular as the sunrise—

surveys the ground

rides the updrafts

expends its precious energy

when necessary....

all its movements efficient

and filled with a grace

so stunning

that we stand still

and thrill to its

shrill call

floating

from the heavens—

(a place we can never

put our bodies

on our own....)

the hawk’s daily sky-sail

implies ‘where’

not ‘if’—

this is faith:

outside of our suffering thoughts

all of nature functions in

flawless rotation....

every day

demonstrating

the perfect operation

of mystery....

________________

©2013

beth anne boardman

the not-so-empty

butterflies hummingbirds and spiders

helped raise my children....

today i thanked them:

risen from my empty bed,

gone out of my empty house,

into my empty garden—

  

i stopped

under summer-sunlit gold-streaming

leafy old beings, rife with patience

(the trees, not me!)

the otherworld beckoned:

a stained-glass-molten-golden swallowtail

ribboned into my vision....

stepping further under the trees—

a web-festoon drew

across my face....

(the spider,

golden too,

arced away to safety....)

a hummingbird, wings a-haloed,

paused over the open hillside

(not feeding, not chasing a mate, not hiding)....

i felt

the constancy

of their attention,

(and of all things winged and wafted)

and i thanked them for reminding me:

the otherworld nets around us,

throughout childhood....

or day or night,

or now....

•

i still see them

making secret tunnels under bushes....

(the children, not the spiders.)

(well, the children and the spiders.)

i hear their gleeful chirps

in the climbing-trees....

(the hummingbirds too!)

daring each other higher,

shouting as they leap from limb to grass....

(how the webs and the wings encircled

 my anxious moments....)

the pangs of their empty spots

(on couch and floor and very own beds)

sting me....

but—

the hummingbirds, butterflies, and spiders

still come around

like nothing has changed!

and maybe nothing has....

i live the age-old dance

of love and let go, and ‘a blessing on your journey!’

and walk from under the trees to meet the unknown

like mother after mother before me....

___________________

©2013

beth anne boardman

...through birds and rain

i hear god through birds and rain....

when a  million green leaves rustle

under a breeze
laden with tiny droplets....

and how does birdsong echo
in this loamy rich forest?

i opened the car door
outside a filled church
and in poured this majesty:

a stirring wind
a brush of warm water
a pure clear note arcing, falling, landing
     from some high, secret place....

how could i leave?

world without end....

_______________
©2013
beth anne boardman

the black sun

so many starry nights

in this usually fog-kissed land!

sitting between

fire and prayer,

i watch the unveiling....

tonight

a beginner crescent moon

lilts

in the sky-arc –

the stars

bowing out

of her way

as she passes....

swirls of bats

dart

softly trilling,  

through clouds of glowing bugs –

their bites save me....

on nights like this one,

all the sky bodies seem

to dance for the earth....

(except for venus

beaming her silvergold

defiance!

she stands

resolute and steady –

notwithstanding

her time to outglow

the moon and stars

and setting sun

numbers only tens

of minutes....)

i am transfixed

by the starshow

and venus

and the moon....

(time and miracles merge

when sometimes

you stop

and

talk

to

stars....)

atmospheric water

uplights

into pastels so deep and clear,

you could fall right up into them –

and out into space –

if you weren’t careful....

this

is the miracle

of the black sun:

the time of glowing

after all hope of warmth is lost....

of promise-filled evenings

when fountains of sparks appear

after one has accepted

the death of light....

i am living proof

of the survival of dreams....

i carry the evidence

of life’s brutality....

i know myself alone

with the mystery....

and led on by

its harbored light....

(and in my

secret heart

i forever

dance with stars....)

_________________

©2012

beth anne boardman

shameless love

you are my reason
my light

for you i have
faced dragons

climbed mountains
barefoot

cried rivers

because of you
i chopped wood by the hour

carried weight sure to break me

filled sandbags and dammed floods
to keep you warm
and safe

the bloom on your cheeks
makes me glow

the turn of your curls
enslaves me

for you i have gone to
all the places that frightened me

endured agonies of separation

for you i learned
to live with a broken heart

through the glow
you ignited in me

through wanting to show you life
in every dark corner

i found this tenderness
inside myself

and for the first time
know self-forgiveness

through everything
i endeavored

because of you

i found
me

i see my beauty in you
hear my gratitude in your humor
feel my heart in your arms

you are my light

and i am forever
and forever

shamelessly

yours
___________
©2012
beth anne boardman


dedicated to kdh and keh


in memoriam gtb and rpb

a storm of unexpected grace

i lay embraced by water and fire….

and wonder where you are,
in this wide wide universe….

to the west of me,
surf rolls and crashes….

to the east, fire crackles and sparks….

here at the joining of land and sea,
storm and wind and wave rollick….

and i feel you
out there….

every now and then
my sturdy shelter rocks
with the buffeting wind….

rain suddenly speckles windows and deck….

i watch as all the elements dance --
a dangerous alchemy….

alarming and compelling,
at once….

holy, alive….

you have been inside me….
and i have worn you like a thread….

how i marry the world!
in its enlivening, humbling all --

oh, i am still, though –

still a student of patience….

but look -- though winter yet rules the earth,
the monarchs join in the eucalyptus trees….

at piedras blancas, elephant seals bellow
their powerful desire….

beneath the redwoods,
vibrant lichens cover living stones,

and across the arms of coastal oaks,
great festoons of grey-green lace
abandon themselves to the breeze....

look!

how effortlessly
we partner one another….

in this world or the next –

(perhaps there is no difference
to our quantum selves….)

along the brilliant turquoise coast,
look!

it’s february,
and flowers riot in the hills….

like a storm
of unexpected grace….

______________
©2012
beth anne boardman


(*thank you* to biologist andrea freeman
for identifying lace lichen as the partner of
coastal live oaks in california.... <3 )

blossoming (the oracle of the well)

this morning
i awoke to hummingbirds
buzzing insistently
outside my window….

no flowers in my garden –
yet here they are….

i noticed sun,
soft air, blue sky….

since i have lost so much this last year—
more than i can say to you –
i decided on this lovely day,
to go see the woman at the well….

i found her sitting,
her head on her knee, curled up in the lee
of a sunlit stucco wall
at her temple on the cliff….

she looked up at me and spoke
after a very long time:

i’m afraid
i have very little to offer you
at the moment….

she said….

i would like to say something uplifting….

i would like to be articulate
and use sparkling verbs….

i would like to astound you with
insight, wisdom, stunning imagery –
something!

at the moment, though,
words have left me….

they were the last things to go –

the year took everything….

it will all return, on the great
wheel of life….

but for now, my dear,
my wells are empty….

she patted the ground next to her, then—
stirred her skirts out of the way,
and said:

come, you are welcome to sit here
with me –

and experience
the oracle of yourself….

so, i sat down with her….
peacefully, in the sun….

as the quiet took hold of us,
i felt like a lizard, maybe,
or some other life-form that needs this
warm radiance to feel alive….

my thoughts drifted back --
over this year of death,
heartbreak,
illness….

vulture medicine in play, i thought….

perhaps i must sit here until
i pick my own bones clean….

sitting next to the woman by the well,
i nodded off –

and the visions began….

a cougar at my shoulder….
warm and tawny –
she smelled like warm pelt….

i was woozy and unsure –
she gave the nape of my neck a tiny nudge,

then loped away….
power coiled in her muscles like springs….

befuddled, i tried to stir….
but lulled by the hum of the bees in the lavender,
i nodded off again….

then, through a crack in the night,
i saw a triangle of turquoise sky,
and a huge black raven, in
silhouette –

she sat in silence,
regal and affectionate….

no words,
no directions,
no messages….

suddenly, a fresh wind
stirred against my cheek --

my eyes opened to the
sweet golden light
of late afternoon….

i got up,
feeling dewy, and shaky,
like a newborn foal or fawn….

like i was fresh from a cocoon
and not ready for public viewing….

i walked over to the
edge of the cliff, and stood --

having no idea whether
i was going up or down….
but enjoying the view,
and the beautiful wind….

so now, as the days go by,
i sweep around the empty wells,
and dust off the pails and dippers, just in case….

i may have
no hopes for the future,
but i have an acceptance
of the now –

...before i left her that day,
i went back
to the woman at the well
to say goodbye –

she looked up
with her clear blue eyes
and said one last thing:

you've given all you had to your blossoming....

this emptiness is sacred….

it’s quiet….

and the beings are visiting….

all is well….

__________________
©2012
beth anne boardman