October 21, 2011

Today is the day that Portland got its groove back
Returned to its old self.
Forgot about its summer frivolity.

I welcome it quietly,
Like putting on a comfortable old coat.

An even temperature with light winds, a grey overcast with cotton ball bottoms and luminous folds between quilted billows. A smoothness.

Cool moist air. No bright sun. No more dry tinder.  No harsh shadows.
Darkness under dense trees oozes into the surrounding gray.
Smooth like cottage cheese. No hard edges.

A steadiness that is protective and reassuring.
No bare blade will stab us sharply.

We are covered by a vast quilt that softens the harsh impacts
Thrust upon us from an information intense age.
Our blanket spreads out across the valleys of the Willamette and the Columbia, rolls up the foothills and the faces of the Cascades and the Coastal Range, amply covering all our domains.

TV radio and newspaper quarrels among Republican candidates,
Harsh arguments on the economy, announced troop withdrawals from Iraq, Gadhafi’s death, NBA owners and players bickering over their millions,
All this reaches us softly, like cat’s feet kneading a wool blanket.

A Time to withdraw, muse and search within.
Time for a quiet walk, watch the last bright acts of falling leaves,
Reflect on the passing of the seasons and the trees.

The dwindling light and shortened days
Sadness tinged with melancholic haze.
A cup of tea.
A time for reflection and acceptance.
Time to settle in for a long Portland eve.                dhp/10.2011

The Sound of Silence

Silence can be heard in the gaps of a Mozart piano sonata,
Where the absence of sound is as important as the notes
Giving the music its richness and float.

Silence can be heard in stone cathedrals, where the soft clap of shoes,
A muffled cough, the creak of a wood pew
Allow us to hear the peace of quiet and its beauty too.

Silence can be heard on a hillside in Palermo where a cowbell reaches back  Transporting us silently to an era and setting long past.

Silence presents itself in an evergreen forest when a broken limb breaks, Connecting us to nature’s quiet mystery and breadth.

Silence can be found in the darkness of night, when the wail of a train
Puts time in a vast black silent domain.

Silence can be found by looking within, listening to the silent sweet voices of loves, longing and remembrances.

So silence can be with us if we choose to listen.
It is a choice we might be wise to make more often.                                                              dhp/9.2011

Crack Art

Cracks in sidewalks can be great art.
A concrete slab is the surface and the substance
Some dirt worked into the cracks,
That’s the what the where the all that’s there.

Mother Nature does the rest,
Turning our work into Her art,
Using tree roots and faulty subgrade compaction,
Lifting one part, undermining another,
Using concrete’s weak deflections
To guide the crack’s directions.

One long crack follows the line
Between firm support and a washed decline.
This crack like a road defining the edge of an upland mesa.
Below, by an inch, many weak cracks run wild off that path,
Yielding odd parcels in spider web traces.

Reminding me of rural Irish land,
Where roads run the rims of valleys.
And winding stone walls divide the land
A concrete map. As if Nature thought of that.

But while the cracks do depict that,
This concrete panel could also be a butcher’s chart
Outlining a skinned slab of beef
The main crack is now the cow’s spine
Irregular lines run from it, each piece defined
Fore rib here, Thick flank to the rear.

Then again, this sidewalk crack can further suggest
Cave man’s art,
A wild bull, rendered with charcoal and stick
But with grace and skilled touch
A sweeping rendition
Revealing our early human condition.

Cave man’s art; an Irish country map; a butcher’s chart
In simple sidewalk cracks you can find great art.

Original Intent

In establishing this blog, my initial intent is to create a place where I can post various pieces I have written.  Over time, I may find other uses.
By putting these pieces in the public domain, I hope others will find them interesting. I also invite comment and criticism
The pieces are typically short. Some are poetic. Others are  observations and related thoughts.
In language I strive for brevity and clarity, relish good word choice.