NEUTRON DANCE

Does anybody miss dancing as much as I do?

It struck me this morning, listening to the Pointer Sisters while exercising, how very, very much I miss it. On my elliptical (the most boring machine ever invented) my legs were remembering when moving was FUN! I am definitely my parents' child. Dancing was both their lives and it was mine, up till about the age of thirty when life got in the way. Yeah, it was nobody's fault but my own. I could have kept on dancing, it just slipped down the priority list. Till now, and my little trip down nostalgia lane--remembering the hot, sweaty nights of dancing till you dropped. Dirty John's Triangle Inn, the Crystal Ballroom, any little bar that had a wooden square big enough for a cool guy to swing you on, it didn't matter. And the music, oh the music--we were there--at the birth of rock n' roll and sorry folks, but it just doesn't get any better than that.

Did you watch Dancing with the Stars? I loved that show, and ordinarily I hate reality TV, but this one got me hooked and smooth, cool Emmitt Smith...

Today, before I knew it, the forty exercise minutes were up. About every other song I'd gotten off that boring machine and danced! And I was just getting started. Didn't know how old I was, didn't care. Felt like eighteen again.

Tango lessons, anyone?

Hello, Emmitt?

- mimi

SOUPTIME

It's snowing tonight. And very cold. Winter at it's finest, and what's

finer than soup in weather like this? Build a fire, light a candle,

put on some Nora Jones and the Little Willies and enjoy life. This is a

really easy soup, but very flavorful. All you need with it is some good

bread, a little wine, and of course, a bite of chocolate for dessert...

WHITE CHILI

- 2 T olive oil

- 1 large onion, chopped

- garlic, to taste

- (2) 4 oz. cans chopped green chiles (your preference for fire content)

- 1 lb. ground turkey (or beef if you prefer)

- (1) 18. oz. jar green taco sauce

- 2 cans white beans

- 1 t ground cumin (or more, to taste)

- 1-1/2 t dried leaf oregano (or more)

- 2 cans chicken broth

Heat oil and saute onion, garlic and green chiles for about 3 minutes, until chiles are fragrant and onion is soft. Throw that in a crockpot, along with the taco sauce, beans, chicken broth and spices. Brown turkey and add, along with salt and pepper to taste. Cook all day on low, or at least four hours on high. If you like, serve with bowls of green onion, salsa, or your avorite shredded white cheese.

Don't forget the chocolate...

- mimi

INFINITY

Seattle Public Library - Photo by S. Auberle

If the doors of perception

were cleansed,

everything would appear to man

as it is, infinite.

- William Blake

WHY

Photo by S. Auberle

PINK

Photo by S. Auberle

PINK

found poem from the J. Peterman Company Catalog

Years of pink testing

by Dr. Alex Schauss

who gets paid to do such things

have proved fifteen minutes

of exposure to pink

calms anxiety and crankiness

as effectively as a tranquilizer.

I'm not surprised.

Pink is red

without the bared, sharp teeth

warm and sensuous

but unthreatening.

Pink is Rubens and Renoir

and Cupid coming into view

any minute now.

Bring pink power

on special occasions

for ones you want to make special.

Apply it wisely.

TODAY

Photo by S. Auberle

I'm the blue mountain today

wrapped in wind

the black art of crows

writing my life

on the sky.

- mimi

MEMORY

Photo/Collage by S. Auberle

memory

is the power

to grow roses

in winter

- Mary Engelbreit

SNOW DANCE

Photo by S. Auberle

and how could anyone believe

that anything in this world

is only what it appears to be--

- Mary Oliver

FOG

altered photo by S. Auberle

FOG IN OAK CREEK CANYON

driving up the canyon

tonight

dark of the moon

snow drapes red cliffs

the road twists

and curves

up up up

switchbacking

into a cloud

beside the road

emptiness

a thousand feet

down

nothing

in my vision

nothing

in my world

to cling to

tonight

except

a faint yellow line

and you

fog-shrouded headlights

behind me

that say press on

I'll share the night

share the beauty

catch you if you fall

the long road

winds home, love

unseen

but so full

of your light

always

- mimi

KOAN

Photo/Collage by S. Auberle

"The next day after yesterday is today."

- Henry, age 5

SUNRISE

- S. Auberle

in the arms of pines

sunrise rests so tenderly

awake, jealous heart

- mimi

ALL I KNOW

Collage by S. Auberle

ALL I KNOW

is that I am here

because many years ago

or was it yesterday

two ancient angels

looked down

or up, as the case may be

we really don't know

and saw a full moon

a warm June evening

a long-legged man

and a green-eyed woman.

The angels nodded and said

yes, this could work

picked up their dusty robes

and went searching

through the cosmic closet

for spare notes

unused by Mozart

a color or two abandoned by Monet

Whitman's discarded words

a few leftover snowflakes

a rolling green wave

a bird's wing and three glittery rocks.

They threw this odd combination

into a magic cauldron

stirred for nine months

and out tumbled me

an unlikely mix, confused

and searching for love

when all I really need to know

is that I am still here

on this day of shining sun and snow

desire coursing in my blood

groping my way through Paradise.

- mimi

ETERNITY

Photo by S. Auberle

To see a World in a grain of sand,

and a Heaven in a wildflower,

hold infinity in the palm of your hand,

and eternity in an hour.

- William Blake

DANCER

Photographer unknown

Today is the seventh anniversary of my mother's death. I still miss her. She was a beautiful, strong woman. Dancing was her life. In her mid-eighties she would still get out on the dance floor, with anyone who would whirl her about. I once made the mistake of suggesting, ever so lightly, that she might want to slow down just a bit. She looked at me with love, and said: you don't understand. What better way to die, than while dancing? I couldn't argue with that. IF there truly is a place we go after death, I hope she is this age, wearing this dress and dancing her heart out.

RESURRECTION

for Maggie, 1913-2000

Driving home--past the Great Miami river

where mighty Tecumseh once roamed.

Flowing out of its banks this rainy winter,

the water moves silently through stark trees.

A puzzled crow calls, a hawk,

its white breast ruffled in the cold,

surveys the river--no longer contained,

free at last.

I come to the Pasco road, turn north

toward the hill where you are buried.

As I climb, the earth is spongy beneath me.

The radio said snow is approaching.

It was seven years ago, in ice

and a wind more cruel than this

that you were laid to rest,

your small green urn so alone

on the frozen earth.

There are roses carved on your stone.

A plastic flower from someone's grave

skitters about in the wind.

In summer this is a singing place

with birds and sun and starlight on maples.

Today it lies uneasy in this winter

that holds off, wrapping snowy blankets

about itself, refusing to share.

There are miles to go yet to the place

where I was born, to friends' houses,

to laughter, wine and food,

so I whisper goodbyes, love,

apologies for leaving too soon,

place the plastic rose on your stone

and pray that from this grave

you are risen--the urn shattered,

no longer able to contain you.

TO EACH HIS OWN

Photo and photo/collage by S. Auberle

Waning moon high in the sky this Feast of Epiphany morning and the drummers are drumming on this last day of Christmas. Snow covers the ground and the air is crisp and exhilarating. Yesterday, late afternoon, the wind was fierce as I walked. You could almost lean into it as I headed east up Abbey Road. The slush had turned to ice that crunched beneath my feet and little dervishes of snow whirled about me. The mountains were missing, veiled in white clouds.

Yes, there are those of us who actually love this kind of weather. And those who don't, who would, given a choice, spend these beautiful months in tropical climes. Which is why I've posted a picture for each above.

But for those of us snow lovers, there's also the joy of coming into a warm house, building a fire, settling into your favorite chair with a hot mug of something, or a glass of wine and your current favorite book. I'm reading at the moment, among about six others, American Bloomsbury. A fascinating book about the life and times of some of America's greatest literary geniuses:

"Even the most devoted readers of nineteenth century American literature often assume that the men and women behind the masterpieces were as dull and staid as the era's static daguerreotypes. Susan Cheever's latest work, however, brings new life to the well-known literary personages who produced such cherished works as the The Scarlet Letter, Moby-Dick, Walden, and Little Women. Rendering in full color the tumultuous, often scandalous lives of these volatile and vulnerable geniuses, Cheever's dynamic narrative reminds us that, while these literary heroes now seem secure of their spots in the canon, they were once considered avant-garde, bohemian types, at odds with the establishment."

I will never look at Thoreau and Ralph Waldo Emerson in the same way again. Wow...

Apparently I've rambled on this long because I will not be posting for a week or so. Off to the Midwest where, unfortunately, winter seems to be missing. I will leave you with my second poem of 2007--though very modest, the words seem to have finally begun arriving--or else my muse is still recovering from a New Year's celebration. In honor of the twelve drummers drumming:

winter afternoon

woodpecker tapping on door

my heart says come in

Peace,

- mimi

LAMENT

Photo by S. Auberle

soul train

wailing

through softly

falling snow

muffled lament

of pipers

this eleventh day

of Christmas

- mimi

TLAQEPAQUE

Photo by S. Auberle

Here it is, the fourth day of January, and not a SINGLE piece of writing--poetry or otherwise--has come my way.

Tlaqepaque is a very cool area in Sedona, Arizona filled with incredible art which I hoped would inspire me, but didn't. So, as usual, I turn to others' words. This arrived in my morning e-mail and while I don't usually pay attention to these things, I liked this one and it seemed a good one for the New Year. Though someone close to me labeled it "a bit sappy" (and I agree) it never hurts to be reminded of these things:

"As we grow up, we learn that even the one person that wasn't supposed to ever let you down probably will. You will have your heart broken probably more than once and it's harder every time. You'll break hearts too, so remember how it felt when yours was broken. You'll fight with your best friend. You'll blame a new love for things an old one did. You'll cry because time is passing too fast, and you'll eventually lose someone you love. So take too many pictures, laugh too much, and love like you've never been hurt because every sixty seconds you spend upset is a minute of happiness you'll never get back.

Don't be afraid that your life will end, be afraid that it will never begin."

- anonymous

MOONSTRUCK

Photo by S. Auberle

MOONSTRUCK

Cool, glowing orb

you enthrall, enchant

captivate, charm

mesmerize, seduce.

You do not burn

like the sun

do not flaunt your light

yet who is there

that does not love you,

that is not, because of you,

swept into a foolish act

at least once

in their careful lives,

maddened, ecstatic

moonstruck.

- mimi