A Long and Gracious Fall
Posted: October 31, 2013 Filed under: Random Workout, Yoga | Tags: Autumn, compassion, cycling, David Budbill, fitness, freshly pressed, friends, halloween, happiness, health, hipster, Home and Garden, life, love, lululemon, nature, October, Poem, Poetry, Prose, whole foods, writting, yoga Leave a comment…
A long and gracious fall this year.
The leaves are down. Gardens: emptied,
manured, tilled, smooth, and waiting.
Mower and tiller serviced and put away.
Smoker put away, as is the summer table.
Prayer flags, windsocks and their poles: down.
Twenty-foot homemade badminton poles,
peace flag at the top of one, store-bought net—
all down and put away for another year. No more
outdoor summer chores.
Fall planting — peonies and tiger lilies — done.
Summer flower stalks removed, beds mulched,
a blanket for the cold. Fall pruning done.
Woodshed roof hammered down and sealed again.
Cellar closed. Drive staked and flagged so the
snowplow knows where to go.
What else is there to do? Finally, for once, we are ready
for the snow. Ready now to come inside. Time now for
words and music, poems and shakuhachi. Time now
to light some incense, sit and stare at candlelight.
Grief
Posted: October 3, 2013 Filed under: Random Workout | Tags: blogging, compassion, family, freshly pressed, friends, Grief, happiness, health, hope, kindness, life, Loss, love, meditation, motivation, musings, natural, nature, passion, perspective, Poem, Poetry, Prose, recovery, running, simplicity, Stephen Dobyns, writing, yoga 8 Comments…
Trying to remember you
is like carrying water
in my hands a long distance
across sand. Somewhere people are waiting.
They have drunk nothing for days.
Your name was the food I lived on;
now my mouth is full of dirt and ash.
To say your name was to be surrounded
by feathers and silk; now, reaching out,
I touch glass and barbed wire.
Your name was the thread connecting my life;
now I am fragments on a tailor’s floor.
I was dancing when I
learned of your death; may
my feet be severed from my body.
Child on Top of a Greenhouse
Posted: September 19, 2013 Filed under: Random Workout | Tags: blogging, compassion, family, friends, gardening, happiness, health, kindness, life, love, nature, Poem, Poetry, Prose, Theodore Roethke, writing, yoga 5 Comments…
The wind billowing out the seat of my britches,
My feet crackling splinters of glass and dried putty,
The half-grown chrysanthemums staring up like accusers,
Up through the streaked glass, flashing with sunlight,
A few white clouds all rushing eastward,
A line of elms plunging and tossing like horses,
And everyone, everyone pointing up and shouting!
Bad Day
Posted: September 13, 2013 Filed under: Random Workout | Tags: Bad Day, blogging, compassion, Creative Writing, cycling, fitness, freshly pressed, friends, gluten free, happiness, health, hipster, hope, Kay Ryan, kindness, life, love, lululemon, meditation, motivation, musings, natural, nature, Omaha, paleo, passion, perspective, pilates, Poem, Poetry, Prose, recovery, trail running, weekend, whole foods, WOD, writing, writting, yoga 11 Comments…
Not every day
is a good day
for the elfin tailor.
Some days
the stolen cloth
reveals what it
was made for:
a handsome weskit
or the jerkin
of an elfin sailor.
Other days
the tailor
sees a jacket
in his mind
and sets about
to find the fabric.
But some days
neither the idea
nor the material
presents itself;
and these are
the hard days
for the tailor elf.
– Kay Ryan
Notes:
“Things“will get back to normal around here this coming Monday. Until then, be well and have an amazing weekend!
Machines
Posted: September 12, 2013 Filed under: Random Workout | Tags: Bicycle, bikes, blogging, College, compassion, Creativity, cycling, Ethics, exercise, faith, family, fitness, free range, freshly pressed, happiness, health, inspiration, life, love, lululemon, Machines, marathon, meditation, Michael Donaghy, motivation, musings, natural, nature, Omaha, perspective, Poem, Poetry, Prose, reading, running, simplicity, whole foods, WOD, yoga 2 Comments…
Dearest, note how these two are alike;
This harpsichord pavane by Purcell
And the racer’s twelve-speed bike.
The machinery of grace is always simple.
This chrome trapezoid, one wheel connected
To another of concentric gears,
Which Ptolemy dreamt of and Schwinn perfected,
Is gone. The cyclist, not the cycle, steers.
And in the playing, Purcell’s chords are played away.
So this talk, or touch if I were there,
Should work its effortless gadgetry of love,
Like Dante’s heaven, and melt into the air.
If it doesn’t, of course, I’ve fallen. So much is chance,
So much agility, desire, and feverish care,
As bicyclists and harpsicordists prove
Who only by moving can balance,
Only by balancing move.
CultFit 