MEDITATION AT HELEN LAKE

MEDITATION AT HELEN LAKE, MICHIGAN
1993 Christmas poem.

smoky vapor off the lake
remnants of coals stirred
in the stove in the outdoor fireplace
rekindle in deep ash.
The sun is arriving again.
Leaden pewter clouds lay scattered
across the golden luminiscent east
above, patches of blue
promise a fair day
the dog Jessie sighs in her sleep
while far-off geese cry at breakfast
the handle of the cup is cold
but the coffee is warm
earlier, rising to light the wood stove
I heard the crackle of flame begin

with crumpled newspapers and kindling
then I cuddled back into the drowse
of my warm sleeping bag
now, small birds dart in the spruce trees
in front of this primitive porch
they do not stop long enough
for me to identify them
the deep pleasure in writing
what I sense overtakes me
here in the morning at the table
wild phlox, goldenrod nod in dawn air
catching the magical red-orange light

blowing east, the mist begins to dissipate
the perfect reflections of clouds
and birch shore laden
with fern, moss, and brush
paint the still still lake surface
the cabins on the other side slumber,
though one burned a bright beam
in three directions last night
while I swam after sauna in moonlight.

Pure elements --
earth, air, fire, water coalesce
my mind drifts as is its habit
to my grown children
gone to their lives but not
from encompassing protection
of loving thought,
and the questions
now I have finished this textbook
how will I fill time?
now I’m 50
what meaning will life take?
where will the path go next?
in this exquisite natural tranquility
one discovers in middle age
is wisdom nascent?

I wish I knew that bird’s name--
Hopper, Flutterer, Splasher-In-The-Water
such solitude is necessary.
this peace is joy.