Uhtceare

 

 "Uhtceare is an Old English word that refers to anxiety experienced just before dawn. It describes that moment when you wake up too early and can't get back to sleep, no matter how tired you are, because you're worried about the day to come." Mark Forsyth, The Horologicon

 

The night is dark, the water deep

but morning’s not so far away.

I’m floating at the edge of sleep

 

a fish the fisher couldn’t keep,

an exile at the break of day.

The night is dark, the water deep—

 

or should be, but the tide is neap

and anchored vessels barely sway.

I’m floating at the edge of sleep

 

an aging broom that still must sweep.

The streetlights glare, I cannot say

the night is dark. The water’s deep

 

as blankets tumbled in a heap,

billows rocking Slumber Bay.

I’m floating at the edge of sleep

 

waiting for my clock to beep,

my ship to launch, my anchor weigh.

The night is short. The waters keep

me stranded at the edge of sleep.

 

Books Available
Dervish Lions
The Day of My First Driving Lesson
Country Well-Known as an Old Nightmare's Stable
High-Voltage Lines
Knocking from Inside

Zither Lake at Lan Su Garden

lantern reflections

red shadows on green water

two orange carp kiss

 

 

Books Available
Dervish Lions
The Day of My First Driving Lesson
Country Well-Known as an Old Nightmare's Stable
High-Voltage Lines
Knocking from Inside

On a Winding Road

Far, far out

on a winding road

comes a woman walking

with a heavy load

 

With a heavy heart

and a heavy tread

she walks the road

where it has led

 

She’s all alone

but she’s not afraid

she walks in sun

and rests in shade

 

The road breathes dust

and crawls through mud

underneath her feet

and through her blood

 

And you think she suffers

‘til she hits her stride

and then you see

that the road’s inside.

Books Available
Dervish Lions
The Day of My First Driving Lesson
Country Well-Known as an Old Nightmare's Stable
High-Voltage Lines
Knocking from Inside

Riverfront Park, Milwaukie

The air is so still. The river runs so fast

that friction heats the surface, shears off layers of mist

that float and billow in the windless air.

 

They may rise, drift, dissipate;

they may settle, coalesce, form a fogbank.

 

I stand with my heels on concrete, my toes on grass.

My stillness is in friction with passing time.

Johnson Creek’s outflow goes against the river’s current:

the zone where they meet is studded with whirlpools.

 

Nothing here tells me what direction to go,

nor how to reduce friction,

nor how to navigate turbulence—

just a song of small thunder from the Kellogg outfall

and river buoys ringing against the gathering dusk.

Books Available
Dervish Lions
The Day of My First Driving Lesson
Country Well-Known as an Old Nightmare's Stable
High-Voltage Lines
Knocking from Inside