The Underworld

for my son

The underworld, under the water,
In the darkness of the tidal brown silt of the estuary,
Where you go in your scuba diving gear
With your eyes closed.

“You can’t see anything anyway”, you explain.
“It’s easier to feel your way with your eyes shut.”
You can’t see your air meter or wrist watch.
You must trust your partner on land with your life.

Every week you practice with your team,
Year round, even in the winter ice.
The siren call knows no season.
You are the heroes who rescue others.

You are too often called to the grim recovery work,
Bringing up lifeless bodies from the depths,
Stiff and damaged, found by groping in the dark,
Pulled up into the light as a horrific sight.

I can only imagine what it is like being down there,
All alone, blind, pulled along by the currents,
Guessing where you might be, guessing
How much time you have left before you must surface.

You who journey to the underworld so often,
You become a guide as one who knows well the murky waters,
The tidal currents of the unconscious carrying our surface thoughts along,
As if the conscious mind were in control.

You must know yourself and be secure in yourself
To make those dives down to meet your fears.
You come back to us a changed man
As one who has been put to the test and kept your grip.

I have never faced the challenge of the dark depths.
I don’t know if I could do it.
You have my respect and admiration.
I am proud of your accomplishment.

spring rain swamp walk

trillium

Out with the old and in with the new,
It’s time for the spring renewal.

Complete new plumbing end to end,
A father son project prepares the cabin
For the next decade to be enjoyed
With in line hot water showers.

A fresh set of storage batteries
To hold the photovoltaic charge,
New LED lights brighten up
The corners and recesses.

The hammock will soon swing
On the new back porch.
The cabin will soon extend and enlarge
Into something we imagine.

I love this place
And most of all I love sharing it.
I love knowing I will be here when I am gone
And it is passed to you and yours.

I take a short walk up the stream
Past the main waterfall, past the upper pool
And chance upon an expanse of trillium flowers
So rare, so crimson, such passion.

The water caresses the smooth rocks,
The sunlight ripples in the lens of gentle waves,
Such exquisite beauty all around,
With the great expanse of summer ahead of us.

everything is everything

Five drake mallards paddling aligned with their wave
As if these ducks were invited to some male bonding ritual
As evening approaches after a delightful warm spring day
And April first blossoms are giving way to the coming of glorious May.

What’s missing from this picture?
Where are their mates? Hidden away.
Sitting somewhere nearby on their clutches.
This is the nesting season when what is not seen is what matters most.

I am out for a bike ride along the familiar route
Along the tidal creek out to the shores of the estuary
Enjoying the sights and sounds and smells,
Enjoying my energy and movement and meditation.

The perfume of the blooms reaches me as I glide past in a moment of bliss.
And all along the way the birds call out in their spring songs.
I hear robins, cardinals, red wing black birds, blue jays, too,
And some I don’t know and can’t see, always the mystery.

Such a sensual pleasure it is to be alive here today.
Nothing else matters for the moment.
Such a magical connected feeling between inner and outer.
Everything is everything is good to know.