Her Days Move

New

daylight calls,
rouses her.

She

puts on clothes,
eats her toast.

She

spills water,
wipes counters.

She

sips coffee,
skims the news.

She

hears birdsong,
feels a breeze.

She

works alone,
emails friends.

She

opens files,
writes new words.

She

fills spaces,
compiles time.

She

adds meaning,
subtracts guilt.

She

refracts light,
dims darkness.

She

seeks and finds:
women born.

Her

moments pass:
this is that.

. . . . . . . . .

spb | 25

Advertisements

Exhales: Now & Then

Exhale offers playable vocal engines–
built for every composer, producer, or
artist seeking such breathless sounds.

Subscribe to Exhale blog and feature
stories feed, passed off as vaporizing
effluence as elite spa pluckers pluck.

Exhale’s complete menu of spa therapies
offers anything that will sculpt, lengthen,
transform you to revive, restore, exhale.

Escape to Exhales: sanctuaries designed
to bring balance — restore mindfulness —
without leaving the comfort of your body.

Exhale yoga will open and reinspire you.
Let our jungles heal and oceans cleanse.
Let sand touch us — feel the sun’s kisses.

Exhale: also the world’s first living bionic
chandelier which purifies the air indoors,
growing on continuously as it functions.

She leaned back then and exhaled deeply,
just as jungle-growth surrounded her and
exhaled its own misty-morning air again.

So, take care: inspire souls. Inhale before
exhales — again and again, and yet again.

. . . . . . . . .

spb | 24

Long Ago and Far Away

We went to the water’s edge, far-far below the falls, where the banks gave way, where rabbits used to run, where does and fawns found berries, before the rivers froze, before feral foxes arrived, before bald eagles swooped low, before beavers built dams, before hikers made trails, before day-trippers trekked, before nature packed her bags, before surveyors measured lines, before forests and fields turned into villages and towns. Yes, way back when (we like to say) when we and the woods were one — Sacredly So — not split — torn — hacked — cracked — whacked — buried — burned — seared — scarred — scattered — chopped — bought — sold — or hauled off — or simply left — to rot. This is not why we used to walk to the water’s edge — far below — hidden by trees — on paths of Silent Beauty — before we were all — felled — just so.

Ineluctable Sight

The view out my window
is my own. I own
the view out my window.

I look out with my eyes.
My eyes are continually
on the lookout.

I’m also often seen by others
whom I cannot see —
but I can only see what I see.

Fortunately, inner views
remain liminal, unlimited —
360+ around the circle.

Who knows what I might
— or might not — sight
if I lived on a square.

. . . . .

Susan Powers Bourne
Tiferet | Twenty-one

 

Early April

Shaking out a rug
over the porch

railing.

One end whips around,
knocks something

down

onto harsh ground,
where it all breaks

apart.

No good deed goes
unpunished —

heard.

Clare Booth Luce
wrote that first

in 1956.

Yes, bliss happens
and shatters

like this.

. . . . . . .

Susan Means Lily

Middle name Powers comes from
her maternal Vermont grandmother:

abilities to act or do something effectively
often specific: her powers of concentration.

having great influence or control over others:
powers of good and/or evil.

sixth of nine orders of heavenly angels:
Powers and Authorities

energy or motivating forces:
under her own powers.

Last name Bourne descends from
her paternal English heritage:

small stream or brook, that flows
only seasonally or intermittently.

also bourn: a goal, limit, boundary, destination:
searching for the bourn(e) that gives life meaning.

And then there’s this lovely connection,
Lily discovered for the first time today:

For though from out our bourne of Time and Place,
The flood may bear me far,

I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crossed the bar.

— Lord Tennyson, 1889

. . . . .

Susan Powers Bourne
Tiferet | Nineteen