April Weeps

Tears like raindrops fall

forty days of making music 

giving gratitude for essential workers

forty days I have been sheltering 

in place with people who love me

forty days I have watched

the news with hope, with despair

forty days have passed

since I held a grandchild in my arms

forty days of hope

of believing we could 

make it end, this nightmare 

called pandemic, 

today the sky snivels, 

joins me in deep longing 

blooms, bright yellow reflect 

the droplets of sorrow

Beltane's arrival seeks

Mayday       Mayday     Mayday

 release.

gloriafern 

April 30, 2020

Seventeen

a.n.o.t.h.e.r. day

                   a not the r day

                   an other day

     an ot her d.a.y

another day

I miss his hugs,   his smile shines across the

screen   we sing a Tom Chapin's

birthday song for him,

where did that song come from 

asks our musican grandson,

my hope grows. 

gloria fern April 25, 2020   

We Rise Again

cold winds blow,
snow, hail,

drums, dance,
bagpipes,
fiddles

rocks beauty painted,
windows, heart and rainbow,

waves lash on shores,
red spruce bends and bows,
jabbing heaviness

sunshine amidst blue
skied clouds

daffodil heads hang,
pansies weeping in pots,

april showers
marshal
may flowers.

with thanks to the Rankin Family

gloria fern April 22 2020

Oft Shrouded

Have I ever told you?

Have I told you how much I like stories,

how they fuel me, inform me,  and make me

feel whole,

the stories I read,  see and  hear,

the costumes, the dancing, the song,

characters,  like me and so different 

as well, the truth, the real,

the absurd,

I like movement and bodies

performance and risk,

they lead me,

 from fear and

 uncertainty too, away

from obsession and grief,

 they take me right there

then back here

Have I ever told you how much I like

the curious sharing, the daring,  

and caring,  

the risk?

 I give thanks for the hope offered

and shared by the arts community in these

days of covid and beyond!!  

Gloria Fern April 16, 2020

Normal

I celebrate the normal of loving friends,
smiling at strangers, greeting those we
meet on our path, making space for all,

I celebrate the normal of zoom, skype, facetime,
with family and friends, when their faces have
been too long absent, physically,

I celebrate the normal of gratitude shared with
grocery store clerks, garbage collectors, first responders,
health care providers, especially PSW's,

I celebrate the normal of neighbours gathering,
sharing smiles, food, music, waving from
the other end of the street, just to say hi,

I celebrate the normal of noticing our fossil fuel
usage, of being conscious of mother earth and all her
creatures and celebrating clean air,

I celebrate the normal of blowing bubbles, sidewalk
chalked message of love, laughter, hope,
hearts and rainbows brightening lives,

I celebrate the normal of recognized privilege,
of caring for the least among us,
connection across difference,

I celebrate the normal of notes sent by mail,
by email,  of remembering, of time taken to
let another know we care,

I celebrate the normal of seeing, smelling feeling,
flowers, sun and rain, forests, rivers, streams
and  ocean and mountain sunrises,


I celebrate the normal we are creating.

gloria fern April 14, 2020

An Easter Morn

It came peaking out of the clouds,
just a sliver of the sun, it was 6:41
bicycle wheels turned to get us there
on time,  after debate about cold, about rain
past the eyes seeking, musky scent,
speed forward, needing perhaps
 to witness the sun rise,
to ensure it would happen,
on this most peculiar of Sunday mornings
and it rose, there was shade,
there were clouds,
but we saw it, as I have seen it
many Easter's before,  we alone
were at the terminals, no trumpet
sound,  no carols sung, and yet there
was a rising, a resurrection,
like the cinnamon buns, like the
hot cross buns, like the croissants,
we walked among the sprouting
plants the buds not yet
fully present to all that is,
like me, not fully present to feeling
it all, not wanting to notice the
sorrow, the emptiness
only here in this moment
life

gloria fern April 12, 2020

Good Friday

I have always wondered why it was called Good
this Friday that falls somewhere around Eostre
sometime close to Passover,  this year almost
overlapping with Vaisakhi and Buddha day,
always in Christian tradition two days before Easter.

Easter that celebration of new life, of growth,
of new life,  Easter that day that joins
with the holidays of other traditions, celebrating
enlightenment, and freedom from slavery, and the
new harvest. Those sacred holy days that call us to hope.

I have always wondered why the day two days
before, the one that in my tradition is the day
that Jesus is flogged is crucified, when for all the world he
dies, the curtain is torn,  and sorrow is at it height
why is it called GOOD?

I have read, I have studied the theology,  a holy day,
a good day,  and yet I have questioned,
today the question rests
I have felt the resurrection in my life, over
and over again, today tulips are in bud.

Today is Good Friday,
for me a day of grief, of loss, of confronting of being confronted
a father on a ventilator, he is a doctor, has Covid,
an aunt in intensive care,  no visitors allowed
an exchange student breathing constricted, waiting

There is not resurrection, no enlightenment, no new life,
no freedom from our enslavement called Covid in sight,
and yet I sit knowing this is not good, and yet the bulbs
are budding, the generosity is visible, the compassion
is growing

 today is a holy day.

gloria fern April 10 2020

Black Currants

Sour dough bread slathered black current jam
from last summers loaded bushes
harvested,   washed,  made into jam when the idea
that there would not be flour in the grocery
store every time we went was an absurdity.

a bicycle ride with a friend, six feet apart
and we so fortunate to
have trails almost empty, and spring
peepers to welcome us in the marshy
corner gravel trail crunchy  stop
as bullfrogs call    notice

pussy willows, forsythia budding
forth    cardinals  chickadees
dance before me, spirit
companions on my journey
life on this planet,  present always

dinner offers stew rich with wonder of
tomatoes found in the depth of our deep
freeze, cleaned in these days, awaiting
spring saps offering, summer harvest,
soon there will be more currants
hopes gift today.

gloriafern April 6, 2020

Love in the time of Covid

as I awoke,  as I rubbed the sleep dust from my eyes,
the sun streaming in my windows,  a dog scratching on
doors, sour dough bread, smells wafting through the house,

 I wandered in the garden, I am so fortunate to have one,
saw crocus blooming forth,  daffodils budding,   tulip leaves,
and on our walk, the water rushing across the path,  giggles as
we climbed over and around to "stay" in place,

waves lapped on the shore, yes I live near big water,
did I mention my good fortune,  friends waved across the six foot
mile,  then bagpipe sounds echoed forth around the world
 Scotland the Great was played in my front yard,
 the sidewalk chalk, the seeds harvested and shared

beef stew, red meat from local farmers fields,
not like my mother made, this has red wine as its base,
laundry blowing on the line, the cool winds blow,
the sky is blue, someone found me on face book and asked me
to friend her too,  so many delights made possible
by social media, which I often scorn...

love called me

gloriafern April 2020