day-poems

[day-poems]

6/20

Day two of our June heatwave.

72 at 6:52am, 80 by 8,

peaking at 95 by 2pm…with

a real-feel of 104. (And that

is here on the coast…hotter

inland). The fans are all running

and all the windows open wide

to suck in what passes for cool

morning air while we can.

We will survive.

Makes a really good excuse

or ice cream after supper.

[day-poems]

6/16 Sunday!

It is impossible to imagine

the pure life, pure love,

pure will for good

that is the spirit before it gets

embroiled in time and space,

matter and energy…

all the messy stuff of being.

Truly holy, wholly other.

Impossible, not only because

our minds are too small,

too caught up in time and space,

too involved in matter and energy…

but because being is what

the spirit does, who the spirit is.

Matter and energy in time

and space are always

imperfect and impermanent…

never more than a close

approximation of the pure

will to good, of the loving,

living, intent of the spirit…

(as am I, being matter and

energy myself in time and space)

but it is the stuff of being,

what the spirit has to work

with, and because of that

it is (and I am) shot through

with holiness, like light

caught in the weave of wool,

like nothing we can imagine,

like our daily experience

if we open our eyes to see

and our hearts to be

what the spirit imagines.

[day-poems]

6/15

Sitting here doing my morning

posts at the kitchen table where

I can see the bird feeders on the

back deck, I glance up just in time

to see big bird swoop down across

the lawn, maybe even under the

corner of the deck, and then glide

up to settle on branch in line with

our side window. Of course when

I grab the camera and get out

there it is already gone, but still,

most likely a Sharp-shinned Hawk.

And I am thinking it is not the first time

it has put in an appearance in just

that way, landing on the same

branch. Carol told me a few days

ago that a hawk had perched there.

It is undoubtedly hunting the birds

or the chipmunks that gather to eat

the spilled seed on the lawn below

the feeders. It is welcome to all

the chipmunks it can catch…

it can take all the Brown Headed

Blackbirds. I won’t even begrudge

it a chipping sparrow or two if it

will just perch long enough for

a photo. We all have our priorities.

[day-poems]

6/14

We have a chipmunk that seems

to be stationed on our front steps…

or at least there is one there almost

always when I open the door. It will

scamper off to the side into the

ground cover under the eves, but

I have a feeling that it was just

sitting there on the step, like the

greeter at the Walmart doors, waiting.

There are a couple of active borrows

in the flower beds on either side

of the walk, so it could, I suppose,

be on lookout duty, like the sailor

in the crow’s nest, or the ranger

in his fire tower, or the meerkat

on its termite mound if it comes

to that…but it could, just as likely,

be waiting for human traffic to say

hello. Or maybe it just likes the

way the sun warms the boards

of the step, or enjoys the heat

leaking out under our front door.

[day-poems]

6/13

It is baby bird season. We have

3 bluebird fledglings and a hairy

woodpecker the same age who

hang out on our deck much

of the day. The parents come

and feed them still every once

in a while, but mostly they just

be chilling, picking at the spilled

seed and mealworm crumbs,

climbing on the railings and rail.

Our deck is apparently the

designated day care facility for

the neighborhood bird fledges.

Okay by me. They are unlikely

to be predated on our back deck.

[day-poems]

6/12

I bring my iPad out to the kitchen

table with my coffee in the morning

to do my picture posts, and to keep

an eye on the feeders to see what

is happening with the birds. I will

admit it strains my ability to multitask

and I probably miss a lot of bird

action when I get too involved in

my posts…and it probably adds

a good half hour to the time it should

take me to post two photos…but

I figure I should enjoy the early

sunshine while I can. It will be

Maine winter all too soon and

I will be sitting, if I bother to come

to the kitchen at all, in the dark

without any birds to distract me.

[day-poems]

6/11

The piping plover chicks

are running around on

the beaches of Southern

Maine…little balls of dirty

cotton on toothpick legs,

with bead eyes and a

sunflower shell beak

glued on. Barely big

enough to register. If you

stand still, they will come

up to see what your feet

are, there in their sand,

new in their world…but

then everything is new

when you are as new

to the world as they are.

I can only hope they

survive…that they thrive.

The world is a better place

with piping plover chicks.

[day-poems]

6/10

I put up the new hummingbird

feeder Saturday. It is a totally

different design…but one that

came highly recommended. It

is hard to find anything but

PerkyPet locally, but after

some research on-line I decided

to try our local bird store, which

doubles as a nature gift shop,

and they had just the one I was

after. For a while there I was

wondering if it was different

enough so our Ruby-throats

might not recognize it as a

feeder…but after more than

24 hours, I just saw the male

using it a few moments ago.

Maybe not the first time, but

the first I have been around

to see. He mostly only visited

the back side of the bottle feeder.

This one is flat so you can see

all the ports at the same time,

which is one thing I liked

about it, and the perches are

raised for even better visibility.

I think the hummers must

be nesting several yards

away, maybe even over

in the edge of the woods

along the rail-road tracks.

They don’t come often these

days. I am happy that they

come at all. And that the new

feeder seems to suit them.

[day-poems]

6/9 Sunday!

If you cut through

all the mess

and confusion

of this world,

the myriad ways

we find to complicate

matters, our stubborn

insistence on having

our own way,

on our own terms…

to hear what God

is saying, always,

in every situation…

it is so simple…

Live.

Love.

Be good!

You live.

You love and are loved.

You are the good you do.

But that is already

making it more

complicated

than it is.

Life.

Love.

Be good!

[day-poems]

6/8

Something (likely a raccoon)

knocked the hummingbird feeder

down last night. I have not looked

yet to see if its broken, but I have

been thinking it needs replacing

for some time now. The red plastic

is faded to pink, and part that

screws on that holds it up is so

worn that I have had to add a

layer of tape to keep it together.

I take all the other feeders in at

night, since otherwise the coons

empty them, but this is the first

time they have messed with

the hummingbird juice. Desperate?

Maybe, and maybe just getting

back at me for hiding the sunflower

seeds every night before bed.

[day-poems]

6/7

They came to clean the furnace

yesterday. Every year I expect

them to tell me it needs to be

replaced. 20 years ago they

told us the boiler was getting

thin, and we should be thinking

about replacing it. It has begun

to show quite a bit of corrosion

around the coil now, and is maybe…

not leaking exactly…but seeping,

weeping, just enough to be

something we want to keep our

eyes on. I suppose they have

more efficient ones these days,

and I would have to research

heat pumps. There are energy

efficiency programs in Maine

that might help with the cost.

It is of course, not something

I want to think about at all.

And any furnace we put in now

will undoubtedly outlast both

Carol and I. Still, we need one

that works, so I will be keeping

my eye on that weeping coil.

[day-poems]

6/6

It is maybe not a good year

for wild lupine. The field I

have photographed for many

years now is kind of sparse,

the lupine being pushed out

by weedy young trees and

vines close to the road under

the old maples, and by taller

than normal timothy hey further

out. Maybe the stand is just

showing its age. Losing it’s

vigor…I can identify with that.

At the same time the lupine

that has somehow become

established in our yard is

looking good…the few plants

we have. They are not exactly

domesticated as we did not

plant them. They just appeared.

Which is, I am thinking, a good

thing. I can only hope they

continue to spread. I will

enjoy the vigor of their youth.

[day-poems]

6/5

The Least Tern flies in with

a good sized Sand Eel and

tries to give it to his chosen

female. “See me,” he seems

to say, “mighty fisher, good

provider, let me fertilize your

eggs.” She is not having

any…playing hard to get,

bill down, sometimes even

walking off up the beach.

After all there are a lot of

Sand Eels in the sea, and

probably some even bigger.

Of course, I don’t pretend

to know the mind of a Least

Tern, male or female.

[day-poems]

6/4

Running late this morning.

i get caught tweaking photos

when I mean to post, and

it takes me way to long

pick the right one for the

morning, and then I always

have to have something

to say about it, and I spend

too much time watching

the birds on the deck, and

enjoying my coffee. Of course

I have nowhere to be and

nothing to do that anyone

else is counting on…

so the time is mine. If I want

to watch the male bluebird

feed the fledgling on the deck

rail, there is no good reason

not to. The clock has lost

its power over me…which

is what it means, at least

in part, to be retired.

Isn’t it?

[day-poems]

6/3

The Hairy Woodpeckers who have

been decimating the mealworms we

put out for the bluebirds these past

few weeks, finally brought their

fledgling to the deck yesterday

to introduce it to the delights

of un-regurgitated mealworms.

It quickly learned the trick of clinging

to the feeder until it had its full.

It is nice to have my faith rewarded,

or at least confirmed. They were

eating enough mealworms for at

least three. That is better somehow.

[day-poems]

6/2 Sunday!

Each of us is a little factory

where matter and energy

are corralled, wrestled,

marshaled into a living

expression of God’s creative

love, which is busy making

something of the universe.

Something good.

How awesome is that!?

To be a self-aware agent

of creation…agent of love…

a knowing participant in

the good that is becoming,

a living instance of creation,

right here, right now, caught

in the act of making something

of the universe…something good.

Each one of us. All of us together.

Making good. Love’s foundry.

Life’s forge. The hand that

holds, that is the brush

with which God writes good

in time and space.

[day-poems]

6/1

We had a great day at the

Coastal Maine Botanical Gardens…

our first visit when the Rhododendrons

and Azaleas were more or less

at peak. Perfect weather and despite

the Resident Days free tickets, not

too crowed at all. And there were

the new to us sections and the 5

giant troll statues to discover, so,

yes, a great day. Great that is until

lunch time when the best we

could do at the new and improved

and greatly enlarged cafe was a

somewhat soggy prepacked,

truck stop quality, chicken salad wrap

and a bottle of expensive Maine Brew

ginger. Where are the artisan breads

and tuna apple salad or avocado

and hummus on pita bread

delicious concoctions of pre-covid

days? Gone forever? I hope not.

Lunch used to be the perfect

compliment to the garden experience.

Not yesterday. I am trying not to let

it tarnish my memories, and I did

get some lovely photos of Azaleas

and Rhododendrons.