Make me fully present in this sacred moment.
Give me loving eyes to see in others
The person they hope to be,
Ears to hear with empathy
The thoughts and feelings spoken.
Assist me to be honest with myself,
And in what I do with every person.
Grant me courage to face this day in humble gratitude for all you have made and meant to be shared abundantly.
THH
8/5/24
There is often unnoticed tension,
Between awakening and invention.
A moment when a window opens in your personal space,
A rare offering of new prospects.
Calling for sitting still,
Instead of running fast,
Breathlessly falling behind,
Fiercely grasping after prizes
Believed to last and last.
A lucky stopping permits attention
To scents and sounds, interests and habits,
Allows for clarification of experience.
Time to imagine options,
And the rare moment to dwell
in this liminal space:
Discover who you are and have been,
Note struggles, joys, and pain,
Think back to before, examine beliefs,
Claim excitement in future possibilities,
Then dive in.
Such moments fly at light speed,
Save when fired by personal desire,
Your hunger expands space into a new shapes.
Leap to meet the challenge, damn adversity,
Act with character and personal authority.
Too many ride ocean waves
Oblivious to direction,
Behave like tourists taking in the view.
Drain life choices of imagination.
Take the plunge,
Be the wave,
Beg time to explore decisions,
Let the in-between resonate,
Then go live your invention.
THH
8/3/24
Some words feel strange,
the way they throw rocks inside my brain.
Fog up windows so I cannot see;
Spread confusion about what is meant,
Add dimensions to thought,
Crack cement walls built for sanity’s sake,
Leave me to meander in unusual directions.
Take a word like nevertheless —
An interesting attraction —
For if never means never
As in well — never,
What’s the-less for?
It seems to lead to a half open backdoor.
Never is:
‘Never will I see you again’
Death to the one you’ve been hanging with,
The message perfectly clear.
‘Never will I forgive’ feels definitely forever,
And ‘never will I forget’ and ‘never will I let you go’
Change directions when you tack on the-less.
Nevertheless adds possibilities and something more.
Nevertheless returns to the beginning,
Makes me think of alternate directions to travel,
When lost, might I be found,
And consider places I stayed too long
Or way too short,
Wonder too, if I’ve ever really known,
Or even asked,
what it is to be honestly invited?
Nevertheless is more than nevermore.
There the never feels like never,
But add the-less and my heart thinks more,
As if I get a second chance.
A turn to belief and a reprieve of my long sentence.
THH
7/28/24
Day and night,
Driving home late,
Or rising from the edge of sleep,
Sudden delicate insights
Appear to crystallize,
A fragile architecture
Of words and images surge
in my brain.
Hurriedly,
Visions must be recorded,
Profound communications written down
In a rush of creative energy.
Dice thrown from the corners of the mind,
Spill on the street,
As the urban sprawl traffics rebuke of the
poet’s intent
scattered in black on white
across the page
A jumble of accidents and impotence.
THH
7/26/24
At morning light
One eye opens
A blue-black dog penetrates
With quizzical curiosity,
noses in …
Awake? Yes, yes..
No no…
Unsure if dreams and the cool,
cave of sleep are ready
To flee the night’s rest,
Not sure of doing more than rolling over.
The eye takes in a slow dawning of perspective:
One big friendly face nosing from the foreground,
A dog eyed stare of wonderment,
A sandy beach background and a calm sea floats before the lazy eye to the horizon, numbed to the softening grey, white light
Obscures morning.
A scene for recurring reverie
meets this quiet moment,
brings a gentle smile and
opens the day
before the rigamarole piles in.
At daylight
covers no longer comfort,
Elbow shades eyes from the call of day.
Legs stretch side to side,
Touch the warm edges of materiality,
Feet slide to solid floor
Assure a firm foundation to balance awakening
Step forward in ritual confidence
Time directs appointed events
Patience straddles plans
Tasks engendered by habit align
As the day rolls from routine to meet circumstance.
Break fast with slow intent,
Black tea brews
aroma enchants
Puts off thinking.
Dog pants for bones
Demands attention
Step outside
Greet the summer air wet with dew
Scents offer blessings
Crepe Myrtle dangles bright red, and still,
Black-eyed Susan’s beckon the sun
A new day smiles at possibilities
Soon heat drives all decisions
The sad consequence of human ambition
By afternoon light the day prays for night.
Daylight ends with thanksgiving
Sunsets are toasted with wine and cheese,
Revelry gladdens hearts eager for cool air,
Shirts open to the breeze
Smiles widen as shadows stretch over terrace and lawn
Children swing with glee
Parents nod happily
Celebrating survival of another day’s heat.
Night once a time of trepidation
Now offers relief from poor vision.
THH
7/25/25
The wolf hunts
Not alone
But as brother and sister,
Father and son,
Neighbor with neighbor travel
forests and field seeking a meal.
The wolf feeds its young with prey killed.
All of the pack shares some food to eat
Celebrates the feast howling with relief
The hunter tracks
Follows a trail
Waits for a chance aims, fires and kills
The prowling beast.
His hunt makes a trophy of dead meat.
In the stealth of pursuit or hunt
no difference,
But one we call sport
With a trophy to admire;
One food for life to transpire.
THH
7/24/24
A young man meets a hungry wolf.
He feeds the hungry beast and they bond as friends.
Together they work and play day after day.
One day the man and the wolf wrestle around and the wolf pins him down.
A horseback rider passing by shoots the wolf with his long rifle.
The wolf rolls over dead.
The man in tears of rage
leaps to his feet,
pulls his pistol and shoots the rider dead.
Shocked by loss and full of dread he buries his friend with the hapless rider
Pulls off horse’s saddle and sets him free
Tragedy of just intention; a prevailing symmetry remains.
THH
7/24/24
The rain was a relief from the heat.
It came down like a mother rushing to save her earth bound child.
Now the rain has settled into a persistent drip on my tin roof. The sound reminds of a money changer dropping silver coins one after the other,
Counting the cost of reducing the heat,
For the temperature dropped to comfortable and the humidity bearable and sitting on my little porch I could take in the air.
Unable to walk for two days straight even in early morning without the air sticking in my lungs,
This blessing felt sacramental, even though tomorrow it is certain the heat will return to burn our throats,
For we have reaped the whirlwind.
Storms will lash our homes and the heat will challenge survival, as prayers to idols of air conditioning and the electric grid become loud rites demanding human sacrifice.
Face it! The climate has changed:
Seasons have reversed polarities of human expectations,
Summer tortures,
Autumn hints at relief,
Winter whispers chills and the prospect of snow and icy cold days,
And spring tempts with a short reprieve before
Our world begins to smell like smoke again, and we retreat once more to air conditioning.
THH
6/2524
My ship doesn’t float oceans or sail seas.
My ship takes on no water,
But sinks quickly if bearings are lost,
And I can no longer see the real me.
My ship is buoyed by smiles and with friends often catches the wind,
As I converse with them.
My ship plies frank currents where I’m free to steer according to stars I see,
And when I take the helm, and by dead reckoning avoid the doldrums and heavy squalls,
I try to keep an open heart,
without fear in the strange eddies I navigate,
Especially if a good friend helps trim billowing sails on my uncharted course,
and so prevents keeling over,
Then offers safe harbor for me to weigh anchor and gladly dwell for awhile
until I disembark from the comfort of their loving spark once more.
THH
6/19/24
Today returning from an early morning walk a stick lay in my path,
With a swift unthinking kick I tried to brush it aside,
But it spun in place, moved not at all, and as I kept walking, it seemed to be mocking my lackadaisical style,
Your impulse won’t take you far, effort and stubborn intention move the world,
But if you hope to sway entropy your direction,
you must at least take time to give a damn.
THH
6/6/24
Thoughts Have Hands 