Slays My Heart

A poem I won’t forget; it slays my heart every time I read it.  The poet is Laura Gilpin and the poem is The Two-Headed Calf.  

I’m sure growing up on a farm adds to my love of this poem because I see the pasture, the stars, the moon, the orchard, and feel the wind in the grasses.  I see in my heart the cow and her calf.  I feel their body heat, hear their breathing, and smell their cowness.  I hear the sounds of the night; for the night is not silent.

The Two-Headed Calf  by Laura Gilpin

Tomorrow, when the farm boys find this
freak of nature, they will wrap his body
in newspaper and carry him to the museum.

But tonight he is alive and in the north
field with his mother.  It is a perfect 
summer evening: the moon rising over
the orchard; the wind in the grasses.
And as he stares into the sky,
there are twice as many stars as usual.

cow and calf (Lawrence at Unsplash)

Photo by Lawrence at Unsplash

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Rain Sticks

winter winds play
the brown marcescent leaves
music of rain sticks

Dead leaves in winter Feb. 2020

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Fine Memories

Fine memories dwell here.
I can almost hear them
when I close my eyes.

Blog post 1-29-20

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Blue Bird of Happiness

May the blue bird of happiness grace your life.
May the water element do its good work.
May the world be whole again.

Blue Bird Painting 1-2-20

Words and Painting by Sabra Bowers.

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Waiting

waiting is my current action plan
autumn assists me

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Surprise

it was a surprise
to find the gate open

giving entry to the rutted road
I’d not walked since my youth

we meandered the yards around
the abandoned farmhouse and barns

my friend wanted to try the doors
I was hesitant
we weren’t supposed to be there

the door opened, another surprise
the rooms still held memories

my friend snapped a photo of me
in the yard of tall grass

later she wrote a poem
about my journey that day

she framed the poem and photo
and gave me a beloved memory

Sabra going home 1

 

 

 

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Altars

the photos sit on table tops
outside offices in corporate halls

altars to dead men, executives
who died tragically, too soon

it takes a shutting down of heart to ignore
the subtle energy drain of these altars

Yes, portraits of the dead have
their historical value and place

but it is macabre, I say, to
encounter them everyday at work

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Abounding

If I told you the one thing
you must do for abounding opportunities,

would you do it?
Could you do it?

Like yourself.

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Dinner on the Porch

august in the city
cicadas’ songs adding magic
to the music and stories
on Lesly’s front porch

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Forevermore

I am one with all there is
All there is, is alive

All of it, one thing
Totally connected

Ripple affecting all
Now and forevermore

 

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