What is a Mouse Good For?

a little brown mouse 

nibbled on my book cover

in the night

his little teeth marks

and claw scratchings

were distinctive

do we call an exterminator?

what are mice for?

i mean, what do they do in this world?

a small warm animal

covered in fur

a long scaly tail

nobody likes mice…

except other animals 

who eat them

or scientist who

put them to use 

in experiments…

for you know who

i am starting to think more about mice

they are quiet and alert by nature

they are very quick and quiet

they can run and jump

they are often scared

they too are trying to live their lives

find food

feed their families,

protect their children

be warm and safe

i feel less like calling the exterminator now

let’s look on the internet… 

well,  it turns out that this seemingly little useless house invader is

“the most important herbivores in the eco system. In forest, fields, farmlands and backyards, mice sustain predators of all sizes. They link plants and predators in every terrestrial ecosystem.” 

WOW!

reading further it turns out these little critters are trying to save humanity! 

“ The mouse genome is very similar to our own, making mouse genetic research particularly useful for the study of human diseases. ... Mice are extremely useful for studying complex diseases, such as atherosclerosis and hypertension, as many of the genes responsible for these diseases are shared between mice and humans.” 

People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals is the largest animal rights organization in the world, with more than 6.5 million members and they say, “Friendly and highly intelligent, mice are just as smart as dogs and can even recognize their names and respond when called.”

WOW, WOW!!!

you who chewed on my copy of “The Way of the Bodhisattva” by 

Shantideva was no other than a Bodhisattva too!

invading my house as a pest

you were a visitor of great consequence

in your simple way, without intention

you are my brother (or sister)

certainly part of my family,

your DNA proves it

I only hope my life may be

as meaningful as yours 

I gassho, 

homage

to the great bodhisattva

little brown mouse 

—Bruce Linton

Companionship

this morning

a strange leaf

turned out to be 

a small lizard

sunning himself

i wished him a good day

walking on

three stones sat like buddhas

by my Bay

I sat with them

i rested on a bench

two seagulls flew overhead

one landed on the end of my bench

he looked at me with his dark black eye

i looked back

human companionship

may be overrated  

—Bruce Linton

I want to be

I want to be the tremor of petals

when a bee comes to sweep up pollen.

I want to be the pause between phrases

of a mourning song, listening for the

heart to beat, feeling the lung inflate.

I want to be the butter melting across

the corn rows of a summer supper on 

the porch. 

I want to be the hand holding someone’s 

head as it is gently laid to rest on a pillow.

I want to be the utmost leaf on the tallest

tree, behind my house, to catch the sun 

as it sneaks into my yard.

I want to be a baby’s breath as it laughs

at magic no one knows.

And, now I see I can be each of these 

Poetry says so. 

—Martha Ward

Here & Here

Launching into the blackest night 

my body drops away, I take flight

and soar through stories & and tales

of who’s fabrication I cannot tell and

still I soar, then alight at the edge of

my bed just before dawn's light, weighted

with the whole of me, losing hold of

where I’ve been and what I’d seen…

My chair sits midst the lawn, my feet

naked against the silky slips of grass,

toes dozing  letting the earth cradle them, 

and be found to be a part of that sacred ground.

Earth, enter my feet, take away pain 

that keeps me from sleep.

Walking in the middle of the street, 

the day’s heat is held back behind

the bank of pecan & cottonwood trees. 

There is a breeze that kisses my brow, 

brings a hum to my lips, and my eyes 

linger on the long-limbed mimosa 

flowers swaying above the creek.

—Martha Ward

Prodigal

Like scaring up chickens off their roosts,

squawking loudly across the yard, I dusted up

a scene to take me away from my home, 

to wander into experiences of other homes 

and homeless feelings, to learn that I wanted 

back on my home roost.

The ease of being missed and missing wanes

& waxes. Distance increases and the 

need to fill what had always been provided.  

It takes the reins of my days, determines my direction.

I was exposed to caring for children, managing 

animals, caring for an old man infirm by a heart ailment. 

Traveled into histories made before I ever was, and tied up 

from neglect in knots of opportunities taken by others. 

Halls of stained glass rained colors, a pathway for

my steps across the cathedral, tending to preparations 

for the next event, celebration, funeral, arrival of a

dignitary, a queen. 

Skies of another place had me tethered by the heart

and I landed hard on my return, embraced by a known

firmament. The belonging took longer to reemerge, 

prodigal all the same.  

—Martha Ward

Shedding Little Branches

—Kim Mosley

 

In the Moment

—Kim Mosley

Archipelago

I never wanted a future. 

Never dreamed of bridal gowns or 

Baby cheeks or making 

My place in the world. 

 

I desperately desired to plant 

Sweet potatoes in Cuba at 21. 

I was bound to swim

With dolphins in the ocean. 

I fell in love with singing 

Brazilian music. I craved

Myriad makings of art. 

 

I have longed only

For unique immersions

In aliveness. 

 

I dived deep into each 

invigorating idyll, each

Oubliette of anguish

And despair. 

 

My life is an archipelago

Of these intense expansions 

And contractions, each 

Isle separate from the rest. 

 

Pearls on a strand, 

A knot between each one. 

—Geneve Gil

To the One Who Leads the Way

I whisper it now at this table

because I may not remember

after the long confusion 

of the day

of this life full of broken chairs

spilled tea cups

loss and gain jumbled and dripping

I may not remember to say

into my pillow

in the quiet room,

wake me when it's time.

I will not demand

nor pluck you by the arm

but ask you with eyes averted,

if grass has risen on the path

and I cannot find my way—

if I haven't ruined everything—

bring me to the edge

where the waves lap,

this life and the other 

changing one to the other

let the wind of my contradiction die

and the water calm.

I have learned, oh so thoroughly,

that I cannot do this

but if you would, take me by the hand

so it can yet be done.

written to David Whyte "House of Belonging”

—Sarah Webb

Dreaming the Tree

A tree in the air, a tree in the sea:

madrone muscled, lithe in its limbs,

kelp in a forest of reaching and falling.

The sleeper shivers silver:

a school of birds, a flock of fish.

Light sleets orange gold fronds,

leaves bubble in a current of wind.

Below the flow of light,

the drift of beings,

dark slopes down.

Down past tree branch kelp, 

bird flecked fish, 

on—

an entrance to dark

to deep.

—Sarah Webb

Dichotomy

When I first saw you,

I thought you were a tree,

growing on a mountain side.

Limbs thinning 

as they stretch to touch the sky.

White petals floating on the wind

from the flowers 

there must have been.

No green leaves.

Just brown-orange trunk,

white petals, 

and thinning limbs

on a mountain side.

When I looked closer,

I realized, you looked like a coral

under the sea.

Bright orange 

against the blue-green of the sea.

Specks of white school fish

swimming 

as would be petals in the wind.

I looked once again,

trying to understand.

I see you as a mighty tree.

I see you as a tiny coral.

Which are you?

Tell me!

The great tree 

touching the sky?

Or the small coral

under the sea?

Where is the truth 

in your dichotomy.

— S. Swan

Reverence

 

—Liz Tucker-Rogers