For Holly

Porches, with roofs are a sanctuary

for this strange world of third stage living

galaxies force themselves upon us, 

springing like slinkies 

from behind previously familiar dolls and

blocks, infants weaned and crooned 

over, with dreams filled by 70's, 80's and 90's 

Today's  Parent wisdom,  are determined, 

intelligent familiar strangers.

Partners, children, family, friends, loves

not physically present on this porch, 

surround our sorting, seeking, growing 

conversation,  moving in and out,

 like aches, 

we thought would never greet us,  

We sit grateful for

the 30 plus years of friendship that allows 

us into each other's hearts with 

deep love for all those familiar strangers who

fill our galaxies, tripping us up, 

and sending us delight beyond any 

 wisdom, past or present.

matriarchs 

when did they get

so young?

This third stage living not meant for all, 

we both know loss, those too soon dead, while yet

we live and love and grow, still seeking, oft weeping, 

we carry on, with gratitude

galactical love a coverlet 

we hold for one another.

gkn August 2016

Bouquets from the Labyrinth

Surrounded by your presence, 

and yours and yours, 

flower gifts 

memory, a smile, 

a twinkling stern eye,

I must, I can, I will 

determination flooded by 

You. 

Movement continues. 

gkn August 2016

What if?

with thanks to Mary Oliver (How Everything Adores Being Alive)

What 

if you were

human

and your soul

and a significant amount of courage

aroused you to come 

into 

your world

of so many dreams

becoming

and 

what if

you 

clamoured aboard 

falling into

the grinning face 

of possibility

and 

allowed yourself 

to be 

embraced

by its

succulent unfamiliarity

a happy prisoner?

gkn August 2016

Contentment

Steaming green tea warms, 

the iceberg in the harbour

split in two it's translucence 

visible from my writing chair, 

ducks and ducklings gather on my left, 

whales spouts 

demand attention, while the hiking trail of yesterday 

reminds me of its many delights.  

Smells of breakfast 

prepared for me, remind me to 

stay close to this home 

now, cool ocean breezes blow through my hair.

gkn July 2016

Newfoundland Soul Song

Clouds drop, vista's fade into

splattered windshields travelling

to puffins, whales, icebergs

while large brown rock of

moose nests between trunk 

stubbled rock face

yellow blue red orange neat 

white picket fences 

beauty contrasts

white caps crash onto fishing boats, 

a familiar unfamiliarity surrounds 

me.  Clouds lift with blue skies 

offerings. 

gkn July 2016

Since Sunday

This morning I said goodbye, and watched her

 drive out of the driveway.

It is Wednesday. 

She has been here since Monday, walking, reading, 

eating, laughing, crying with me,  we were together 

since Sunday, 

when  her uncle's broken back, hospital admission,

brought me unexpectedly 

to her town, to a bed in her house. 

Since Sunday 

the death toll has risen 

in Bagdad, in the Ukraine, in South Sudan in...

I have walked and talked.  I have 

swum in crystal clear waters, walked through marshlands, and forest.

I have listened to bagpipes, to drums while 

watching swans on the water,  and bicycles on trails.

Since Sunday 

I have talked on telephone, read email, and text, and 

learned that the back brace will work, 

that my father will be able to walk.  

I have looked 

forward to my trip to Newfoundland, 

shared stories, and hopes, and dreams.  

Since Sunday 

I have discussed, and debated,

 internally and externally activisms best actions.

 I have mediated, waliked labyrinths for peace, 

for change, for love, for compassion. 

Since Sunday 

I have picked currants, baked scones, 

drank tea. Water has washed over my bodysoul, 

since Sunday.

gkn July 6, 2016

June 29, 2016

I woke up this morning

expecting  to be flooded with 

news from Istanbul

stories of grief and loss of 

of mothers, of lovers, of babies, 

dead, dying, aching.

What are the colours of the Turkish flag? 

What colour is blood?

gkn June 2016