Looking at Mountains – August 2019

From Dancing Moons, 1995, by Nancy Wood

 

Mountains that are looked at have a particular grace,

some are rounded and gentle, others have a wildness

of spirit, the sharp rock face of invincibility.

Still others beckon with deceptive calm, luring the unwary

with their raw beauty, heads buried in clouds, sunlight

dancing on meadows like sky fingers. The great rock god

Of the mountains sleeps with one eye open to catch eagles

and elk, wind and rainbows, the strong of limb who climb

those peaks because a mountain lives inside them.

 

Mountains that are looked at look back with the pleasure

of old women locked in the gaze of new admirers,

so glad for attention, so wary of strangers. Mountains

That are looked at increase in beauty from so much looking

and live on in memory long after we are gone from them,

remembering the hint of immortality there and the way

We were possessed by rock. Mountains that are looked at

look back with authority and the promise of tomorrow,

which is why some people die for them.

Dancing Moons – January 2019

From Dancing Moons, 1995, by Nancy Wood

 

Deep in the sanctuary of my loneliness,

I looked at the nighttime sky where

The full moon in its own deep solitude

Suddenly began to dance across the stars.

From dark horizon to dark horizon it went,

Giving light to my silent, shuttered heart,

And to itself the promise of desire.

 

As I watched, the full moon danced the night away,

Bathed in earth’s reflected harmony. Then

The moon became two moons, multiplying on and on

Until the sky was filled with dancing moons.

Those distant orbs of spirited light vanished the moment

The sun came up, yet shadows of their beauty remained,

Reminding me of the blessings of my life.

Invitation to Life – May 2017

From Dancing Moons, 1995, by Nancy Wood

 

I invite you to life

and you send regrets.

Sorry can’t come, too late or

too soon, too busy, too scared,

Too much involved in the business of living.

 

The reasons you give

are a song all their own.

off-key and shallow, with the sound

of avoidance, the rhythm

Familiar, the words echoing the same old excuses.

 

I’ll issue no more invitations

to you. The party’s been

cancelled, the guests won’t arrive

in time to find me having

 

A dance all my own. You see,

 

I invited myself to my life

and finally accepted.

The Beads of Life – April 2017

From Dancing Moons, 1995, by Nancy Wood

 

The space between events is where

most of life is lived. Those half-remembered moments

of joy or sadness, fear or disappointment, are merely

beads of life strung together

to make one expanding necklace of experience.

 

The space between events is where

we grow old. From sunrise to sunset one day lives

as another day emerges from the fluid womb of dawn,

the first bead strung upon

the everlasting thread of life.

 

The space between events is where

knowledge marries beauty. In quiet reflection

we remember only the colored outline of events,

the black and white of war, the rosiness

that surrounded our first love.

 

The space between events is why

we go on living. The laughter of a child or

the sigh of wind in a canyon becomes the music

we hear expanding in our hearts each time

we gather one more bead of life.

Night Fire – November 2016

From Dancing Moons, 1995, by Nancy Wood

 

The cold of winter makes a fire in my heart and fills my ears

with the music of the meadowlark. Here in my house, made

of the memory of summer and the desire for green grass,

I know that loneliness will never kill me.

Here in a room filled with sorrow for all the world in pain,

I know that fear can never blind me from seeing

eagles rising from the ashes of my fire.

 Asleep in a bed covered with longing for spring,

I know that anger never soothed my heart nor

silence solved the problems of my world.

In my dreams I see a perfect little flower, and then I know

that love will heal most anything,

my loneliness included.