creative ramblings & reverie

Friday, January 10, 2014

Ode to a Turquoise Vase

       ODE TO A 

                      I have cleared my writing table 
                         just to see it there—

            a day of clearing what’s unnecessary,
            for this one right thing.

               Not weighty with significance like Keats’s 
                                              Grecian urn,
             an amphora thick-lined with pine sap and 
                                                with time

       nor yet one of the Hopi vases holding corn;

   a moment only, absolutely,
   the fullness / release of grace

 in clay and color and
 the hands of friendship

 that have cupped it, giving it to me.

  The silence of Green Gulch
  is in its lissome form somehow,

    the sonor of the temple bells
    and paper-whisper of the wish tree

       and birdsong,

             the ancient lady apple in the inner garden
             wearing only winter light.

                      And when they come to her again,
                      the appleblossoms, in another turning 
                                               of the world,

                                    I’ll interrupt its perfect 
                                        concentration, offering
                              a twig from that same tree

                                         burst into imprudent
     white flower.



  1. i seldom comment here. though i always enjoy.
    but reading this... i couldn't help but smile.
    also on my writing desk is a beloved turquoise vase. a large pot really moulded by hands. not a machine. it is one of my few treasures. i revel in its imperfections. and there are many! like me. it's colorful and valiant! LOLOL.
    like katie said to hubble...
    "i love the way you write."

    1. Lovely to meet you here, Tammy J! How funny (in the nicest way) that we both have beloved turquoise vases.