Love Light

Storm in the Afternoon

Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)

Sonnets from the Portuguese 43: How do I Love thee?

1How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

2I love thee to the depth and breadth and height

3My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight

4For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.

5I love thee to the level of everyday's

6Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.

7I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;

8I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.

9I love thee with the passion put to use

10In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.

11I love thee with a love I seemed to lose

12With my lost saints,--I love thee with the breath,

13Smiles, tears, of all my life!--and, if God choose,

14I shall but love thee better after death.

Hills south of Canmore

Mothers

New Blackberry Pushing Through the Early Frost

Dylan Farmer
Mother Mouse

I caught a mother mouse in the trap this morning
She was trying everyway to get back to her nest
You don’t understand, she seemed to say
My children need me.
They need the food I will bring them.
My children are hungry. Can’t you hear them call?
I need to get out of here, she seemed to say

I do have children of my own
Who mean the world to me
I do have a family that I miss with every breath
Who I m trying to get home to
And could try a little harder

So instead of releasing her in the park a mile away
I released her at the end of the driveway
“Hurry on home,” I said to her
“Your babies need you.”
She jumped away several times
I winked, and she was gone

She was gone to me
And home to those she loves

A Stick Looks Hardly Alive Through the Winter
But it is Alive and Proves Itself So Every Spring

Home

A Young Owl Caught in a Downpour

Dylan Farmer
Home

When I have stayed
In a single place
For more than six days
It begins to feel like home

My life begins to warp
And my yesterday forgotten
The place where I sit still
Feels more like forever

Six days seems to be the point
Where transformation begins
And I have to sit and think
Of where I am from and where I am going

Still I am not sure if the present moment
Is not seductive for a reason
After all, an entire lifetime can be lived
In a moment awakened

I want to think of home now
Because of who is there
Waiting for me
Pulling my heart through my breast.

The Same Young Owl Taking Warm Dry Refuge in Our Garage
-He left soon after with our help getting him back to his concerned parents.

Meditations

Mt. Baker in Sunset

Ezra Loomis Pound (1885-1972)

Meditatio

When I carefully consider the curious habits of dogs,

I am compelled to admit

That man is the superior animal.

When I consider the curious habits of man,

I confess, my friend, I am puzzled.

Northwest Rain

--------------------------------
Pound confesses he is puzzled by his examination of human nature. I find myself wondering at what habits of man he studied. Does he mean that our more animal nature, though seemingly less virtuous, may be worth cultivation? Or does he imply that it is that animal nature for which humans fail in his estimation?
-DF

Springtime

Frosty Spring Morning

Dylan Farmer

Springtime Comes

Springtime comes
With a sharp breath in
Melting the Earth’s body
As lifelong lover
Knowing each rhythm
Of the soul
--------

After so much beauty and new Spring life seen and experienced in the Pacific Northwest, I felt the passing of seasons as a kind of ectasy of the Earth. I wanted to express this and this poem is the form it took.

Alive Again

Birth and Death

Hostas Emerging in Shelter

Dylan Farmer

Birth and Death

The birth
Is sweeter
For death
Proceeds
Before
----------

This poem came as a tribute to the birth of Spring and the current journey of passing of one of my dearest friends.

Young Owl

Divine Moments

New Roses, Soft Thorns for the Spring

Adelaide Procter (1825-1864)

A Lost Chord

SEATED one day at the Organ,

I was weary and ill at ease,

And my fingers wandered idly

Over the noisy keys.

I do not know what I was playing,

Or what I was dreaming then ;

But I struck one chord of music,

Like the sound of a great Amen.

It flooded the crimson twilight,

Like the close of an Angel's Psalm,

And it lay on my fevered spirit

With a touch of infinite calm.

It quieted pain and sorrow,

Like love overcoming strife ;

It seemed the harmonious echo

From our discordant life.

It linked all perplexéd meanings

Into one perfect peace,

And trembled away into silence

As if it were loth to cease.

I have sought, but I seek it vainly,

That one lost chord divine,

Which came from the soul of the Organ,

And entered into mine.

It may be that Death's bright angel

Will speak in that chord again,

It may be that only in Heaven

I shall hear that grand Amen.

Divine Evening Light

______________________________
Have you ever experienced this divine spark of greatness, only to have it vanish to be sought again?
-DF