MIMI'S GOLIGHTLY CAFE

HOW A POEM COMES

2012-01-29T16:10:00.000-08:00

Photo by S. Auberle

ARRIVAL

in the coffeeshop

in the middle

of a conversation

a poem quickens

comes alive

comes tapping

at the blue door

of creation

open me

hear me

touch me

it whispers

one

shy

word

time

I've been waiting

so long for you...

BLUE MOON

2012-01-28T06:21:00.000-08:00

Photo by S. Auberle

snow moon

lighting

earth and sea

ice locked

summer

sleeps...

WINTER GARDEN

2012-01-20T07:04:00.000-08:00

Photo by S. Auberle

8 degrees below zero this morning...then came this haiku...

winter garden blooming

on north window pane

summer memories

AND ONE SPOT OF YELLOW

2012-01-15T10:00:00.000-08:00

Photo by S. Auberle

I have a cup of green tea in the green swan mug and a green candle burns before me. The green cedars are scrabbling against the windows as the wind whips them furiously this morning. Mozart plays softly in the background and I write at the old, cat-scratched, cherry table from the 1950's that I bought on Jefferson Street seven years ago. And here is the yellow rose that you brought me...

PEACE

2012-01-11T08:13:00.000-08:00

Photo by S. Auberle
Moonrise over North Bay...
just because some images need no words...

HOW TO BE PHOTOGENIC

2012-01-10T10:46:00.000-08:00

Photographer's name at bottom of photo

An old poem, but a true one...

HOW TO BE PHOTOGENIC

Be two years old again
every plump, rounded cell
perfect
in your pink, plump
perfect body.

Sixteen is good--
floating through
a dewy meadow at dawn
flowers tucked
in your long, streaming hair.

Or simply be so old
you don't give a damn
every scarred, knobby surface
of you aching
to tell its story.

FLOWERS FOR THOUGHT

2012-01-02T07:28:00.000-08:00

Photo by S. Auberle

This year I'm NOT making resolutions to be broken, instead just savoring some ideas, thoughts, quotes that might be meaningful and/or helpful to me...maybe to you as well:

"Resist doing things that have no meaning for life."

~ Pablo Casals

"There are years that ask questions and years that answer."

~ Zora Neale Hurston

"Often people attempt to live their lives backwards: they try to have more things, or more money, in order to do more of what they want so that they will be happier. The way it actually works is the reverse. You must first be who you really are, then, do what you need to do, in order to have what you want."

~ Margaret Young

CHRISTMAS EVE

2011-12-24T14:56:00.000-08:00

Print by S. Auberle

I first posted Fra Giovanni's "Letter to a Friend" on Christmas Eve, 2008. But, though it was written long ago, in a far different world than this, I think it's important and beautiful to post again tonight. I hope you think so too..

I salute you. I am your friend and my love for you goes deep. There is nothing I can give you which you have not got. But there is much, very much, that while I cannot give it, you can take. No heaven can come to us unless our hearts find rest in today. Take heaven! No peace lies in the future which is not hidden in this present little instance. Take peace! The gloom of the world is but a shadow. Behind it, yet within our reach, is joy. Take joy! Life is so full of meaning and purpose, so full of beauty...that you will find earth but cloaks your heaven. Courage then to claim it, that is all! And so I greet you, with profound esteem and with the prayer that for you, now and forever, the day breaks and the shadows flee away.

~ Fra Giovanni, Christmas Eve, 1513

JITTERS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

2011-12-23T12:06:00.000-08:00

Photo from an old Johnson Bros. Plate engraving

sometimes I think I would have liked living back in Victorian times...like this photo, but then again, probably not...anyway, here's a brand new poem (written this a.m.) about living in these crazy days...

JITTERS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

So I'm sitting in Jitters
having a half caff/half real
and a chocolate hazelnut biscotti
while waitin for the serpentine
belt to be replaced on my Saturn.
The car wizard said the belt
has 111,000 miles on it
and could go at any time,
sort of like all of us, I guess.
On the other hand, I'm sure
there are serpentine belts
slithering along at 211,000.
Who ever knows?

Outside the temp is hovering at 22 degrees.
Inside Nat is singing about roasting chestnuts,
the Cookie Lady is baking away
and a guy in a Packer's jersey
is talking about relationships.
Is that the same as love, I wonder?

Coffeeshop ponderings--as meaningless
(or maybe not)
as pondering the life of a car or a belt.
I consider sharing this profundity--
asking the barista, the Cookie Lady,
the man in the Packer shirt--
tell me, are you happy? and if not, can I help?
Or maybe I'll just walk back up the hill
to pick up my 111,000 mile Saturn
wearing the bright, new, classy, serpentine belt.

NEARING SOLSTICE

2011-12-20T12:47:00.000-08:00

Photo by S. Auberle

NEARING SOLSTICE

This morning there were twenty waxwings
in the rowan tree outside my writing room.
The tree's berries are bright
red cheerful.
Yesterday they danced in snowy gowns
while the wind swirled off the lake.
Today each berry hangs quietly, waiting
to be consumed by hungry birds.

Darkness by four o'clock now
and the ever-shortening days whirl past.
We cook comfort dishes--beef stew,
garlic potatoes, bake chewy, dark bread.
There will be wine--red, like berries
and we'll be busy as the birds
storing up food and warmth
while the earth turns toward darkness, but still
finding time to be of good cheer,
savor the meat, the salt and the bread,
dance another of our days away.

Something there is
that says you must know:
we were here...
and oh, how we loved.

yes, back on line again...at last! Still not sure how this new computer works, but at least I can post this...an old poem from "Crow Ink." Wishing you all a warm and blessed Solstice...

HOME AGAIN

2011-12-03T10:52:00.000-08:00

Photo by S. Auberle

Home again, at last, after an adventure that I wouldn't care to repeat. Heading to Phoenix for a family Thanksgiving, my partner became seriously ill out in the New Mexico desert (at the Very Large Array) where this photo was taken. We managed to get to Show Low, Arizona, to the Summitt Healthcare Regional Medical Center, where they (literally) saved his life. After emergency surgery and a week in the hospital, we were able to return, getting out of the West just ahead of a massive storm. Thanks to all the wonderful people at the hospital and old friends and new friends we met during the experience. I've no doubt your candles, prayers, sorcery, magic, incantations brought us through! As an added bonus, I returned home to find my computer had crashed, so will not be on this blog for awhile, but that is minor in the whole scheme of things...
peace and blessings to all..

ON THE ROAD AGAIN

2011-11-18T18:04:00.000-08:00

Shiprock, New Mexico   ~Photo by S. Auberle

Off to the Land of Enchantment and points West, for a while. Will leave you with a poem from "Crow Ink"...

NEARING SOLSTICE

This morning there were twenty waxwings
in the rowan tree outside my writing room.
The tree's berries are bright
red     cheerful.
Yesterday they danced in snowy gowns
while the wind swirled off the lake.
Today each berry hangs quietly, waiting
to be consumed by voracious birds.

Darkness by four o'clock now
and the ever-shortening days whirl past.
We cook comfort dishes--beef stew,
garlic potatoes    bake chewy, dark bread.
There is wine--red, like berries
and we are busy as the birds,
storing up food and warmth
while the earth turns toward darkness.
Yet time enough to be of good cheer,
savor the meat, the salt and the bread,
dance another of our days away.

Something there is
that says you must know,
we were here...
and oh, how we loved.

ELEVEN ELEVEN ELEVEN

2011-11-13T06:03:00.000-08:00

Photo by S. Auberle

ELEVEN ELEVEN ELEVEN

A man tells me how on that day
eleven eleven eleven
at precisely eleven a.m.
he went outside and rang a bell
eleven times for remembrance.

That night in Caroline's Jazz Bar
at precisely eleven eleven
the band stopped playing
for a moment of silence
and then broke into Auld Lang Syne.

Today a friend e-mailed me
what a lovely sunrise that just happened!
and I wrote this small poem.
This, I think, is how peace will come--
one humble step at a time.

NOVEMBER, SNOW & ROSES

2011-11-10T14:02:00.000-08:00

Photo by S. Auberle

I come bearing tea, bread, and poetry
to talk about sadness
this rain-slashed afternoon
with you, my shiny friend
the one who makes me smile
but today you are sad
it's the leaves, you say,
they let go so gently
this late in the year, as if
finally, they have accepted...

from a work in progress...

FLYAWAY

2011-10-29T07:22:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

If my mother returned this autumn day
I would wrap her in my arms
rest my cheek on her soft white hair
share my food with her...
this creamy slice of Fontina
a golden pear, a little red wine
and we would laugh and eat and drink
until it was time for her to return
to where she belongs now.
She would fly away, gently
as the silk of this milkweed pod
and a crow, awaiting
the crumbs of our feast
would bid her a fond farewell...

another poem from my forthcoming book,
"Something After Burning"

THAT LONG AND WINDING ROAD

2011-10-18T09:10:00.000-07:00

Northport Ferry Road--altered Photo/Painting by S. Auberle

ROADS

"...I've seen that road before. It always leads me here."
- The Beatles

In Oklahoma I traveled once
down a road with shadows of owls
and egrets settling softly in trees,
their white feathers
rose-tinted in evening light.

There were roads in Alaska,
Ireland, Scotland, Italy,
roads all over the world
that would break your heart
with their beauty

but the road in Ohio
where crows sing to you
and trees bend down to touch you--
that's the road that's never left me
though I left on it long ago.

That's the road that leads me
to the country of my bones.

~ Sharon Auberle
(from my forthcoming book, "Something After Burning"
to be released late November)

ONCE IN AUTUMN

2011-10-13T07:27:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

for Sallie

I think of you, always, in autumn
that day in the park
when we knelt in the grass
beneath a gingko tree
gathering its delicate fans around us
then tossing them high, laughing
in the golden shower raining down...
we, of many years
we, who thought there'd be many more...
I forget--already you've been gone almost seven

I must love this world twice as much for you...

HER WEB

2011-10-05T09:17:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

"For many years, at great cost, I traveled through many countries, saw the high mountains, the oceans. The only things I did not see were the sparkling dewdrops in the grass just outside my door."
~ Rabindranath Tagore

This exquisite work of art hung this morning, just outside my front door...it's gone now...

AUTUMN HARVEST

2011-09-25T12:11:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

An autumn photo and poem seems appropriate for this rainy day...

SEPTEMBER

so soon come
the shortening days...
fox fur
thickening
apples
beginning
to hang heavy
one maple
already turning
red harbinger
of the long white
to come...

~ S. Auberle
previously published as "August Evening"
in "Crow Ink" 2009 Little Eagle Press

BEAUTY

2011-09-20T09:52:00.000-07:00

Photo/Painting by S. Auberle

"Everyone needs beauty as well as bread, places to play and pray, where Nature heals and gives strength to body and soul alike."

~ John Muir

A NIGHT FOR BASHO

2011-09-12T18:36:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

O brightest moon of autumn, all night long
I've strolled around the pond, in search of song.

~ Basho

IN MEMORIAM

2011-09-11T06:29:00.000-07:00

Photo from a painting in the Milwaukee Museum of Art

LOST IN THE PAST

2011-09-02T08:59:00.000-07:00

Artwork by S. Auberle

This rainy morning, while looking for something among my volumes and volumes of art and writing from past years (all the way back to when I was seven!) I am finding wonderful things. Which means, all you artists and writers out there--don't throw away your old stuff. Believe me, there are gems buried there. So here is an art piece and a small haiku, written I have NO idea when. but I like it...

eating a cherry
brought to my tongue that summer
we first tasted love

~ mimi

IN AUGUST

2011-08-24T08:22:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

IN AUGUST

Bless this sun, this summer day,
bless the lake, the trees,
the thrush singing in the oak.

Bless that black-as-the-devil raven
muttering old prayers.
Bless you and me.

Immerse us in August heat
till we burn with joy,
till we remember

what has been forgotten:
how high Icarus flew
before he fell.

~ Mimi

NORTH WIND

2011-08-15T11:24:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

NORTH WIND

clouds
like
ponies
tonight
galloping
southward
racing
summer
over the
moon

EVE AT ROWLEY'S BAY

2011-08-05T08:23:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

EVE AT ROWLEY'S BAY

Weather coming in
across the bay, a mist
tinting the horizon,
as though an artist
were playing
with a new shade of blue.

An empty rowboat
rocks in the waves
waiting for a course
to steer by and I

lie on sun-warmed rocks
waiting for the fox snake
to appear, tempt me
in his serpent whispers
with new possibilities.

~ from Crow Ink, by Sharon Auberle
Little Eagle Press 2009

ON THE BEACH

2011-07-31T08:06:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

five Monarchs
one Mourning Cloak

elegant terns
on the wing

three white
German Shepherds

Maya, Beau
and Cirrus--like

the clouds
owner says

one fish skeleton
alewives

lovers
smokers

Frisbee tossers
green smelly stuff

corpse of cormorant
and gull

fly-covered bodies
buzzing

in the heat
invasive zebra

mussel shells
under bare feet

ouch

WHAT IS HAPPINESS

2011-07-26T06:03:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

drinking jasmine
flower tea
this summer morning
with you...
how can i keep
from breaking
into blossom?

BEING A POET

2011-07-15T15:42:00.000-07:00

On the State Park Poetry Trail

BEING A POET

I place words
on a page,
dance with them,
pray with them,
coax them
to cross the border
between your heart
and mine...

EVENSONG

2011-07-08T09:22:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

EVENSONG

...when the night surrounded me I was reborn.

I was the owner of my own darkness.

~ Pablo Neruda

when the white pine

lifts its arms, beseeching

a first star to appear

when one gull calls

from the indigo sky

as you read Neruda to me

when poppies are nodding

heavy heads and crickets serenade

suddenly a moth careens

toward the light of us

buzzing beating

darkness riding its dusty wings...

it could be an angel

in clumsy disguise or

just an awkward soul

like us

stumbling along

toward enlightenment

TO SEE THE WORLD

2011-06-29T06:35:00.000-07:00

Hawkweed ~Photo by S. Auberle

"To see a world in a grain of sand,
And Heaven in a wildflower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand,
And Eternity in an hour..."
~ William Blake

TOOTH OF THE LION*

2011-06-24T08:09:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

Imagine if a flower plague
raged across our land
eradicating the dandelion,
would we, honestly, be happy?

Imagine no more vast fields
of blossoms that open
only to the sun,
would we be glad?

What if we pronounced it
don day lee OWN
as the French do,
would we revere it more?

Celebrate when we spotted
a rare suvivor?
Would lovers adorn each other
with its golden crowns?

And think of this...
was there ever such a yellow?

~ mimi

* a fancy name for dandelion

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY

2011-06-19T07:03:00.000-07:00

Photographer unknown - Circa 1915

A sweet and innocent heart shines in my father's eyes. Whenever I feel sad or unforgiving of my parents, as many of us do now and then, I think of the children they were. Before the world changed them..and me. I love you, Papa.

GOODBYE OLD DOG

2011-06-10T07:05:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

He started out as a show dog, flying about the country, till one trip--when they put him down in that place where dogs have to fly, and the lock on his cage rattled the whole flight. When they found him it was too late--he was scared to death, his show career over, in need of a new home. It took years for him to be brave again, but if his heart was scared, it was also the biggest love machine ever. Babies could poke him, climb on his back, pull his tail. It didn't matter, he would just give them that soft look, wag his great, feathery tail and smile. He knew when people were sad and would sit right beside them, his head on their knee, just loving them. As it will do, even when we don't want it to, time passed, the kids grew up and he grew old, his golden face white now and those big, clumsy paws that never did learn how to navigate the slippery kitchen floor grew even more awkward. His beautiful, strong legs began to fail, his eyesight grew dim, the floppy ears didn't work so well. But still, there was grass to roll in and, of course, the house to guard and snausages for treats and, always, his people, who couldn't let him go and so he knew, finally, he'd have to help them. On a hot summer day, when they had gone and the house wrapped its cool quiet around his old body, he knew it was time. I don't know this for sure, but maybe his last thought was of them and he might have smiled and thumped that tail once more on the shiny, slippery, kitchen floor.

~ Sharon Auberle

HAIL TO THE MORNING!

2011-06-07T06:59:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

"There will be something, anguish or elation,
that is peculiar to this day alone.
I rise from sleep and say: hail to the morning!
Come down to me, my beautiful unknown."

~ Jessica Power

FORGET ME NOT

2011-05-27T18:47:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

* myosotis sylvatica, who comes in
where the land is disturbed...
your ovaries are superior,
though in short style,
you are hairy, entire,
sessile, and alternate
and you contain nutlets.
Honestly, I don't know
whether all this is socially acceptable,
I only know you tug at my heart
with your tender, winsome ways
and welcome the newborn fawn
wobbling down the paths
of your sweet blue blossoms.

* Wildflowers of Door County
by Paul & Marilyn Mahlberg

WABI-SABI

2011-05-15T10:39:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

holy
the white flash
of a seagull
in the sun
and holy the
pale green
Aracauna eggs
holy, too
a blue
Japanese bowl
each a piety
unto itself...

SOFT AS

2011-05-10T08:34:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

On a day when the earth is lusty with spring,
ducks are courting, flashing bills of neon blue.
An elegant merganser preens, butterflies
swoop and dazzle, and we sit beneath an old pine,
bark warm and vanilla-scented, and feast
on apples and cheese. A small lizard watches,
eyes full of reptilian hungers. In the rush
of this wild, runaway life, my heart is drenched
in light. I am soft as a butterfly's breath.

~a rewrite of the poem "Birthday" from Crow Ink~

ON THE LAST DAY OF APRIL

2011-04-29T19:36:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

On the last day of April, the forest is filled with a fragrance of wild leeks. A crow calls, a plane drones low over the island. On the wind you can hear ongoing chatter of a rookery out on the Little Sisters. After four days of rain, the sun is warm on our faces. There is a plaintive conversation drifting down from gulls so high in the blue air we can see only specks. A fly buzzes by, the first of the year. We watch a flock of cormorants flying low, and a couple--arm in arm--walking down the trail. You ask if I remember an evening here, last November. It was sunset, and the first snows had not yet fallen. The setting sun turned the whole world orange, and we felt so lucky. Now we'll go home and cook eggs, serve them on blue and white Japanese plates, sprinkle wild leeks over them. We'll have a glass of Malbec with some good bread, and think again how lucky we are. Later, under the waning moon, we'll listen for coyote songs, and in the morning, we hope, begin this beautiful life all over again.

EARTH DAY PANTOUM

2011-04-22T08:11:00.000-07:00

Painting by S. Auberle

EARTH DAY PANTOUM

Like songs, like prayers,
they want to be heard--
these wild places
I carry in my heart.

They want to be heard
like you and me, and
I carry them, softly,
give them voice.

Like you and me
they weep sometimes
and I share with them my tears.
I have listened to rivers,

weeping for their diminishment,
to mountains, shattered for coal.
I have listened to laments of the raped
forests and grieved beside them.

The shattered mountains
do not beg for mercy,
the forests ask only that I listen,
mourn who they once were.

Like songs, like prayers,
like the hawk's high screams,
the wild places are going. Pity
the children who will never know.

~ Sharon Auberle

EACH MORNING

2011-04-19T20:06:00.001-07:00

Image by S. Auberle

"Each morning

we are born again.

What we do today

is what matters most."

~ Buddha

SPRING THING

2011-04-06T15:10:00.000-07:00

Photo/Painting by S. Auberle

The calls of geese awaken me

this morning, their plumage colored

like the brown and white earth.

Snow is melting in the hollows,

moist breath of Spring sighs through

the birches, but storm-blue clouds

in the western sky convince me

that winter has not surrendered

and I must yet restrain this impatient heart

from some foolish Spring thing, though

the lonesome echoes of geese soften me

like snow melting on the earth's warm breast.

~ mimi

HAPPY TO SAY

2011-04-02T10:43:00.001-07:00

Photo by R. Murre

Happy to say a poem of mine--

"Talking With Neruda's Ghost"

appears for the month of April

on the very fine on-line magazine

"Quill and Parchment."

Here's the link:

http://quillandparchment.com/

A CENTO

2011-03-24T07:34:00.000-07:00

Photo/Sketch by S. Auberle

AND NIGHT IS ALL

(a Cento)

a settlement of snow

shining there

in the moonlight

the sky is pure and whole

here we lie

entranced

by the starlit water

where the weight of life

has been lifted

and made light

we have become beautiful

without even knowing it

~ mimi

(a cento, for those of you who are unfamiliar with this poetic form, is a compilation of lines--one each--from other poets, and combined in a new way. Yes, it's legal, no it's not plagiarism, the form actually goes back to Homer and Vergil--so if it's good enough for those cats, it's good enough for me!)

MARCH DAY ON THE POND

2011-03-16T06:12:00.000-07:00

Photo/Illustration by S. Auberle

foxes are pairing up now

coyotes singing their love songs

birds still in dull winter coats

dreaming, perhaps

of nuptial plumage...

six days till calendar spring

~ mimi

(lines from "Late Winter at the Clearing")

ASHES TO ASHES

2011-03-08T12:24:00.001-08:00

Sedona sculpture-artist unknown

Ash Wednesday- 1949

Church of the Holy Angels...

I'm six years old

kneeling before the altar

fingers rubbing my forehead

the priest whispers above me

ashes to ashes

dust to dust...

my small body trembles

Ash Wednesday- 2011...

Church of Red Earth

I'm sixty-something

kneeling in a crater

where lava once poured down.

I rub dirt on my forehead

find a potsherd

remember those

buried beneath me,

their bones

only red dust

on my jeans...

~ mimi

SPRING SNOW

2011-03-04T05:23:00.001-08:00

Photo collage by S. Auberle

in the mirror

of memory

my young face

vanishing

like spring

snow

~ mimi

JUST BECAUSE

2011-02-26T09:16:00.000-08:00

Photo by S. Auberle

What words could possibly do justice to this image? Just because these fish exist, that's all that's necessary, just because, somewhere, they exist...

SUNCATCHERS

2011-02-17T17:05:00.000-08:00

Ceiling by Dale Chihuly

Like stained glass,

aging women--

strong to the touch,

tempered by fire,

poetry still

in a certain light.

Yet there is fear

of approaching night,

the muting of colors,

that day we will shatter

in a thousand shards...

At eighty my mother said

life is not just about holding on

rather, finding joy

in what remains--

suncatchers in a child's room,

all those dazzling pieces of glass

dancing with the light.

~ mimi

WEDDING SONG

2011-02-15T10:20:00.001-08:00

Photo by S. Auberle

cardinal wedding song

snow sliding off the roof

forty days till Spring...

~ mimi

BBRRRRRR

2011-02-09T07:12:00.001-08:00

Photo by S. Auberle

Two below zero this morning, windchill 20 below. Winter is getting long. Woke up with the bug that everyone around here has, so I made a pot of chicken soup which probably has absolutely no medicinal value, but smells delicious. So I'm hunkering down on the couch under the green wool blanket and watching the cardinals and housefinches, all in their fancy nuptial plumage. They know Spring is coming, and they're gettin' ready for their brides. ..

WINTER IS

2011-02-02T15:38:00.001-08:00

Print by S. Auberle

Winter is

a white cat

stalking

in the snow...

~ mimi

ELLA'S BLUES

2011-01-27T07:17:00.001-08:00

Photo from the Internet

ELLA'S BLUES

outside

35 below zero

windchill

inside

hummin' along

to Ella

I'm blanket-wrapped

eating cherries

from Chile

seems all

I can think

to do today

choosing

the roundest

reddest

cherry

biting into

sweet flesh

tryin' to remember

the dream

of summer

and was there

ever

a time

when livin' was easy?

~ mimi

MOON AND RED TREES

2011-01-19T18:20:00.000-08:00

Encaustic print by S. Auberle

How lucky

to live

in a place

where people stop

their cars

to look

at the moon...

LOVE, JUST LOVE

2011-01-10T07:44:00.000-08:00

Print by S. Auberle

Tucson, Arizona--

Christina, age nine,

born on 9/11,

who loved ballet and baseball,

gunned down

by a madman...

fear shivers through me

that the world has come to this.

Fear implores me

to do something, so never

does it happen again.

Fear reminds me (as if

I could forget)

of my grandchildren,

twin boys born that year

just three weeks after.

They love baseball,

run like the wind,

create mischief

wherever they go.

When they ask me

for answers, I say love,

just love...

and put Spiderman bandaids

on skinned knees,

dry their tears,

and hold them tightly,

as long as they allow.

~ Sharon Auberle

WINTER HAIKU

2011-01-06T15:47:00.000-08:00

Photo painting by S. Auberle

white sky paints the dawn

muted crows wing overhead

the snow whispers down

~ mimi

first appeared in "Crow Ink"

NEW YEAR'S EVE

2010-12-31T07:57:00.001-08:00

Photo/Collage by S. Auberle

"All things you see will be changed,

and out of their substance will make other things

and again others, so the world may be ever new."

~ Marcus Aurelius

May your new year be filled with peace, laughter and poetry...

HOLIDAY WISHES

2010-12-18T07:30:00.000-08:00

Photo by S. Auberle

TWELVE WISHES FOR THE NEW YEAR

In January, I wish for you black, velvet skies

with a million, dazzling stars.

In February, may you walk beneath them

a loved one's hand in yours.

For March, let fresh winds bluster

through you and clear out the old,

and may April's halo of tender leaves

inspire you to new growth.

A dance 'round a Maypole

is my wish for you in Spring,

and a field of June blossoms to nap in.

July, may you know quiet coves

and endless hours to spend there.

For August, I wish you a blue lake to sail on,

September, a fiesta

of orange, red and gold.

In October, may that harvest moon

paint your nights with light,

and the soft gray of November

enfold you in stillness.

At last, comes dark December,

and my wish for you then,

and always, is peace...

Warmest holiday greetings to all...

WINTER EVE

2010-12-11T08:07:00.000-08:00

Photo/Painting by S. Auberle

WINTER EVE

two dark

delicate shapes

crossing the snowy road...

under a crescent

of rose-tinted moon

my heart leaps

at the white flash

of their tails

like beacons

in the night...

~ Sharon Auberle

DECEMBER EIGHTH

2010-12-09T09:12:00.000-08:00

Photo by S. Auberle

DECEMBER EIGHTH

Handel's concertos on the radio

followed by afternoon news:

another valiant woman

has died this day.

A slim crescent moon

shines in sunset skies,

a poem knocks

at the door

in this darkest time of year.

What shall I do

with the poem, with this moon,

with the music, her death

and o, what shall I do

about all this darkness?

~ Sharon Auberle

In Memoriam: Elizabeth Edwards

PEACE

2010-12-05T09:39:00.001-08:00

Photo by Edward S. Curtis - 1903

Though I saw many, many beautiful places on my recent trip to the Southwest, I was most moved by the words on this post card I found in a trading post in Monument Valley, Utah. The photo of Chief Joseph, the leader of the Nez Perce tribe was taken upon his surrender in 1877, when he spoke these now-famous words:

"From where the sun now stands,

I will fight no more forever."

As we approach this holiday time of peace, I believe these are words to remember.

THANKSGIVING

2010-11-19T07:15:00.001-08:00

Photo by S. Auberle

Off to the Southwest for a desert holiday feast...wishing all a most warm and grateful Thanksgiving...

"Don't judge each day by the harvest you reap,

but by the seeds you plant."

~ Robert Louis Stevenson

(apologies to my vegetarian friends)

SOME AUTUMN HAIKU

2010-11-10T09:03:00.000-08:00

Photo collage by S. Auberle

once again, says leaf

comes the time of letting go

catch me as I fall

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

November morning

autumn on the wing--soon gone

this golden light

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

spring's sweet blossoms past

all that was promised fulfilled

cherish what remains

GOODBYE FAIR OCTOBER

2010-10-30T06:43:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

NOVEMBER

There is always that last day

the one you never want to see

and yet, what is lovlier?

This is the day before the day

when November settles in.

This is the day out in the woods

when last silver moths

are winging from moss to leaf,

the day of the last chorus

of swans in the bay.

Today last leaves are letting go,

tumbling down to the beckoning earth.

This is the day

I watch a proud mink

trotting into the forest,

fur gleaming dark wet,

a fish in its mouth

wriggling in the ecstasy

of November's little deaths.

A slightly different version of this poem appeared in "Crow Ink."

AFTER THE STORM

2010-10-28T06:54:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

I may have posted this poem before, but it seems perfect for today, after the wild days of wind we've had this week. This was first featured on Haibun Today.

STORM

All night a roaring of waves slamming onto the shore. All night a Wagnerian symphony of wind and water; now and then the thunder of a falling tree. I reach for you, burrowed deep under quilts. Through the night we lie there, listening, satiated with music of enormous gods. Finally, at dawn, the wind rests. Sun lifts over the porch, light gleaming like old coins spilled across the floor. At breakfast we watch heavy trucks rolling by, bearing broken limbs and trees. The sky is that color of diamond blue found only the morning after.

bodies of trees

their fragrance sweet

even in death

YOU KNOW BY NOW

2010-10-25T07:53:00.001-07:00

"After Monet" - digital photo/painting by S. Auberle

lines from a poem in progress...

you know by now

that things

are not always

what they seem

that leafless branches

are not

the forever end of summer...

NO ARTIST IS PLEASED

2010-10-22T18:01:00.000-07:00

Collage by S. Auberle

"No artist is pleased.

There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction,

a blessed unrest that keeps us marching

and makes us more alive than others."

~ Martha Graham

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Unless you seek art

as a man whose hair is on fire

seeks a pond,

don't pursue it."

~ Joseph Campbell

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"I have woven a parachute

out of everything broken."

~ William Stafford

AUTUMN IS A FANCY WOMAN

2010-10-15T07:12:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

Yes, I've posted this poem before, but long ago, and it remains one of my favorites...

AUTUMN IS A FANCY WOMAN

walking the streets tonight,

a lady whose lover has gone,

turning her dry and brittle

as that icy shriek of wind

bending golden grasses

down onto cold earth.

Autumn walks

under the waning moon,

or in the fading hours of light,

weeping for that summer love

who sipped her like the finest wine,

whirled and twirled her heart,

vowing their dance would never end.

Autumn is the woman

in gaudy red silk,

there on the street corner

under that lamp

holding off the winter

of her days, tattered

leaves swirling at her feet.

~ mimi

A FEW LINES

2010-10-11T05:20:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

a few lines from a new poem...

The body hungers

I believe, for beauty

as well as food.

If my mother

who loved beauty,

returned to me this day,

I would wrap her in my arms,

rest my cheek on her hair

the exact texture

and color of milkweed

shining in the sun...

SOMETHING THERE IS IN US

2010-10-04T20:02:00.001-07:00

Photo/painting by S. Auberle

something there is in us

needs an island

for once, it is said,

we lived on Great Turtle's back...

~ mimi

ARNI'S FIELD

2010-09-27T09:40:00.001-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

"Out beyond ideas

of wrongdoing

and rightdoing,

there's a field.

I'll meet you there."

~Rumi

MR. CHARNEY'S PLUMS

2010-09-21T13:26:00.000-07:00

Photo/Painting by S. Auberle

one

picture

worth

a thousand

words...

MOONSTRUCK AGAIN

2010-09-20T08:55:00.001-07:00

Photo/Painting by S. Auberle

harvest moon

wherever you go

bothering people

~ Issa (1809)

HEAR YE, HEAR YE

2010-09-14T12:21:00.001-07:00

Photo and CD Cover Art by S. Auberle

Very pleased and excited to announce the release of my first venture into the world of recorded poetry, with my CD "Something After Burning." The CD contains 24 of my poems, along with backup music by some of Door County's finest musicians--George Sawyn on guitar, Lynn Gudmundsen on violin, and Lloyd Michaelsen on Native-Style flute. Thanks to these musicians, and to Lloyd at Door Jam Recording Studios. The CD is available for $10, plus $3 shipping, and may be ordered direct from me at P.O. Box 701, Sister Bay, WI 54234. I'm not equipped to handle credit cards, so checks only, please.

REMEMBERING

2010-09-10T14:41:00.001-07:00

Photo/painting by S. Auberle

September 11, 2001

A dark wind is howling tonight

coming from around the world

from lands of fire and ice

from wild and blazing places

the wind now sweeping

my words from the page

freezing my fingers at the keys

and I'm frightened

that words are no longer enough

thinking useless

old creeds I once believed

gone to ash and in the end

maybe all that matters is this:

one sparrow, sheltered

in a pine tree's fragile arms.

~ Sharon Auberle

from "Crow Ink" 2009

Little Eagle Press

AT SALLIE'S PLACE

2010-08-30T14:20:00.001-07:00

Altered photo by S. Auberle

AT SALLIE'S PLACE

there's a high wind

blowing today

on it

small spiders

sailing by

firmly attached

to their

silken threads.

I wonder

if they feel

glee?

We watch

the wind god

lofting them

to unknown ports

their many

busy legs

resting

along the way.

~ mimi

THE INLAND SEA

2010-08-22T07:24:00.001-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

HOLDING ON

this cold, August morning,

I lie on warm sandstone

beside the Gratiot River.

Tan and clear, its calm merges

with Superior's boiling fury.

The lake is thundering in,

wind's mouth roaring

words I can't decipher.

At my feet--scarab jewels

tiny, gold creatures

clinging to rock,

their miniature hearts

beating like mine.

In winds steady at 35 knots,

we are holding firm,

the beetles and I,

on the edge of infinity.

~ mimi

SQUIRRELY

2010-08-12T19:34:00.001-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

Though this is not the same squirrel, I'm sure they're distantly related...

BREATHE

when the last tourist

has left the county

when the last company

has gone home

the last undecided shopper

clogged the aisles

of the Pig

it will just be me

and that psycho squirrel

zinging acorns

down upon my head

as I walk beneath

his mighty oak...

breathe...

and duck

~ mimi

DISCOVERY

2010-08-06T07:54:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

"The real voyage of discovery

consists not of seeking new landscapes,

but in having new eyes."

~ Marcel Proust

Have you ever seen a pink Queen Anne's lace? Neither had I, till yesterday. But there it was, right along the roadside, among all it's white neighbors. Apparently it happens--a stage in the growth process of some plants, but it's rare. Now I keep looking at fields of the white, lacy blossoms and see not another blushing queen. But I'll keep looking...

THE PRESENT FEAST

2010-08-01T08:55:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

"The reality of now--the unreality of all the rest."

~ Thomas Merton

you

sitting there

in a red shirt

silver hairs

on your golden arm

the cardinal

singing

his late summer song

outside heat

pressing down

on our two stalks

of corn

tasselling

my coffee

pale with cream

book words paper pen

this moment

i celebrate

~ mimi

WHAT BRINGS TEARS

2010-07-27T19:03:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

WHAT BRINGS TEARS ON A RAINY AFTERNOON

the love duet from La Boheme

that gold of day lilies

nodding in rain

a sky soft as white satin

the resplendence of snakes

their wet skin glistening

your call, unexpected

how we laughed

and remembered

how you said we go on

because there is nothing else to do

~ mimi

SUMMER DAWN

2010-07-24T07:19:00.001-07:00

Digital art by S. Auberle

low growl

of distant thunder

crow

calling up dawn

~ mimi

FOOD FOR THOUGHT

2010-07-18T20:24:00.001-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

Food for thought:

"Never go to bed mad. Stay up and fight."

~ Phyllis Diller

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

" We have no more right to consume happiness

without producing it than to consume wealth

without producing it."

~ George Bernard Shaw

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

" One must have chaos in oneself

in order to give birth

to a dancing star."

~ Frederick Nietzsche

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

KNEE HIGH BY

2010-07-04T12:26:00.000-07:00

Photo by R. Murre

Somebody said to me "if you don't put something new on this blog, the NEXT full moon is gonna be here. Guess I better...
so here we have that age old bit of folklore that corn must be "knee high by the Fourth of July." We're right on target!

HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY!!!!!!

AGAIN, THAT MOON

2010-06-25T07:39:00.000-07:00

Photo/Painting by S. Auberle

"Many paths lead

from the foot of the mountain,

but at the peak

we all gaze

at the single bright moon."

~ Ikkyu

Zen Monk/Poet (1394 - 1481)

2010-06-21T09:08:00.000-07:00

Digital photo collage by S. Auberle

"Heartily know

when half-gods go,

the gods arrive."

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

SKY POEM

2010-06-18T07:00:00.001-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

big purple rainy sky

drenches my heart...

and me

without an umbrella

~ mimi

POPPY FIREWORKS

2010-06-14T07:49:00.000-07:00

altered digital photo by S. Auberle

"So to live is heaven:

to make undying music in the world..."

~ George Eliot (Mary Ann Evans)

from "O May I Join the Choir Invisible!"

A PERFECT MOMENT

2010-06-11T11:43:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

Because it was a shiny morning

out there, drawing on the sidewalk,

and the chalk felt so right in her hand,

because the boy was at his finest--

blue-eyed, dimpled and grubby

as only a five year old can be,

because he melted her heart

when he said that the man he drew

has only seven hairs on his head

and I have a thousand

because the sun shone down upon them

and somewhere, out in the desert,

a wren sang his cheery song,

the woman knew, beyond all doubt,

this was a perfect moment.

~ mimi

STUDY IN LILAC

2010-05-31T15:40:00.001-07:00

Photos by S. Auberle

May and lilacs fade

summer is a-comin' in

bees are drunk with love

~ mimi

FOUND POEM

2010-05-28T07:24:00.001-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

The Hopi call the moon of May Waiting Moon

Mohawk the Moon of Big Leaf

Potawatomi say Moon of the Strawberry

Osage the Moon When Little Flowers Die

The Apache call it Moon When the Leaves are Green

Anishnaabe the Blossom Moon

The Moon When Ponies Shed Their Shaggy Hair

say the Northern Arapaho,

but I simply call her

Luna, Queen of the Night

OH NO!

2010-05-24T06:11:00.001-07:00

All photos by S. Auberle

I just realized it's been over a week since I put a new post on here! I've simply been outdoors, much more than at this computer, because it is so beautiful I can't bear to be inside. Summer has arrived...

Rise up my love, my fair one,

and come away.

For, lo, the winter is past

the rain is over and gone.

The flowers appear on the earth,

the time of the singing of birds is come;

and the voice of the turtle

is heard in our land...

~ Song of Solomon

MUSHROOM FANTASY

2010-05-16T09:08:00.001-07:00

Photo by R. Murre

Who is there that does not yearn for a day when the Mushroom Goddess smiles down upon them, revealing her well-concealed secrets for this moment, to this chosen few? Early evening, spring light still tender in the forest, wild leek-scented air fragrant and soft. Recent rains make us hopeful, and soon the first one shyly beckons. Okay, I think, just a few more now--enough for a fine appetizer, please? And there, and there, and then some more...and the forest is suddenly singing with 'shrooms...here, here we are... oh, such delight! Finally, home to saute in butter and olive oil, with just a hint of lemon to sharpen the earthy aromas and taste. A Riesling to accompany...vase of fading tulips on the table...deep rose sky in the west...

May

2010-05-13T06:51:00.001-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

Who has time

for blues

when May is flowing

like warm honey

down the curves

of my soul?

~ mimi

an oldie which I still like...

THE GIFT

2010-05-05T16:43:00.001-07:00

Author and mom

THE GIFT

I still see you, Mom, sitting there in your green chair, looking out at the mountain--Zack the dog, lying at your feet. He knew you were hurting. Wasn't much he could do, but fix his soulful gaze on you. And wag his tail once in awhile, for sympathy. Zack was old too, his step slow, once golden face now completely white.

Your swollen legs were propped up, skin so tight it looked near to bursting. I was afraid to touch them. But one day I found your favorite, rose-scented cream, and massaged your feet and legs with it. It felt so good, you said, and you smiled at me, as always--pride and love in your eyes as you watched me, no matter what I had, or hadn't done.

A good day, you said, is when I don't know I'm breathing. Your beautiful heart was struggling, but you never complained, even as you hated pulling the oxygen tank behind you. Finally, you'd given in and accepted it, as we waited while doctors tried all their magic tricks.

I had little faith in them. Your faith was in the worn book of prayers that always lay nearby. Zack, I think, had faith in everything. The look in his eyes seemed to say that he understood that dogs and people wear out, that even mountains reach their craggy peaks, then slowly round down their days. Dogs are masters of acceptance.

That terrible time passed. Finally, the doctors came up with the right medicines and you lived five more good years. I only rubbed your feet that one time and I don't know why. It was a gift and a privilege, one I wish I'd accepted more often.

Missing you, Mom...

WONDER

2010-05-03T06:33:00.001-07:00

Altered detail of Frank Lloyd Wright house - Photo by S. Auberle

time,

effaced

by tears,

peopled

by ghosts,

their

naked

wonderment

held

mind's

eye

~ mimi

DISCOVERY

2010-04-30T07:38:00.001-07:00

Digitally altered photo by S. Auberle

"Mistakes are the portals

of discovery."

~ James Joyce

A TURKEY POEM

2010-04-29T08:00:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

TURKEY

on a warm April day

azure sky

high noon

in my field of dandelions

I am astonished

by the beauty

of a wild turkey

strolling among

the yellow flowers

his feathers

agleam with light

nothing but

light

so right

looking at him

the world tilts

and I

have no choice

but to share this wild

it would have been wrong

not to

~ mimi

A ONE LINE POEM

2010-04-22T10:35:00.001-07:00

Photos by S. Auberle

was

there

ever

such

yellow?

HAPPY EARTH DAY!

LIFE AND DEATH IN SPRING

2010-04-20T09:14:00.000-07:00

Photo by S. Auberle

REQUIEM FOR A TREE

It is difficult, this being

a stranger on earth.

~Sam Hamill

I sit in spring sunshine,

beneath my dying rowan tree.

Only a single branch

is green with life. This year

it must come down,

its broken body

no longer able to blaze

autumn's bright berries,

its work completed at last.

But, from the scarred top

today, finch and cardinal

are singing their nuptial songs,

or a cheerful requiem,

I can't say which.

Perhaps they are the same.

~mimi