We strained the honey, it flows like light
On our bread’s darkness; we take a bite,
Lost in the glorious mystery
Of wilding sweetness that sets us free.
How precious to set aside our shrugs
Of unbelief and squash them like bugs!
Minds that are closed can open anew;
Eat of our bread now—we break it for you.
Poem © 2020 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More The Whirligig #285
More Writers’ Pantry #39 at Poets and Storytellers United
Everything stirs up my blood:
Leaves and grass, and squishy mud.
Dancers in the field don’t need
Anything but chicken feed.
Don’t give garbage to your cow!
Stop this nonsense, stop it now!
I wish I could see the light;
Hear bees whisper, “It’s all right.”
More The Whirligig #263
More Writers’ Pantry #17 at Poets and Storytellers United
Throughout the woodlands
dry cedars snap like matchsticks—
first loss of autumn.
Fear gripping his heart,
a wayfarer hurries on—
first clouds of autumn.
Autumn’s first full moon—
I catch glimpses of fairies
dancing in the moss.
On the garden path
I keep stumbling on pebbles—
autumn’s first thick mist.
In the dwindling light,
what is there to sing about?
First rain of autumn…
seeming far away
my childhood and its wonders—
autumn’s first cold snap
Haiku © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #234
More Haiku My Heart at Recuerda Mi Corazon
Dark and light spoke fragrant things,
Gardens gathered strength by night;
Love, though fragile, sprouted wings,
Crying out as it took flight.
Fighting chance? Oh, love had none!
Hearing that a storm would pass,
Blotting out the noonday sun,
Love gave up—alack! alas!
Poem © 2019 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Sunday’s Whirligig #227
More Poetry Pantry #490 at Poets United
An earthenware jar sits on a stone ledge in Zapopan, Mexico.
A song rising from the wheat stubble
makes air and light and worm take note.
The iron door of the silo clangs
in time with the music.
By order of an unseen conductor
the song on which your life and
mine hinge will never be over—
it goes on forever.
It blows in the wind,
it floats in the water,
it glows in the stars.
Saint Nobody walks with a purpose
Through streets where no one else dares.
She greets all the lonely and homeless,
Those for whom no one else cares.
Saint Nobody never feels frightened
Among the outcasts and thieves;
She fears neither danger nor darkness,
For this is what she believes:
She’s been given light that’s for sharing,
Light that she cannot withhold.
Saint Nobody walks with a purpose—
This is what makes her so bold.
Poem © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
More Midweek Motif at Poets United: “Saints”
Organ Pipe Cactus National Monument, Southern Arizona
Robert J. Moody Demonstration Garden, Yuma, Arizona
A small wooden bridge—
first, we walk through the shadows,
then into the light.
Haiku and photo © 2017 by Magical Mystical Teacher
crammed with memories,
one in particular:
rising at the meadowlark’s song
to walk across the dew-drenched grass,
her feet bare and cold and wet,
humming little nonsense tunes
to greet the light, bolder now
than when she’d left the house,
turning to see him at the window,
her ancient father;
how small he looks,
how like a cattail reed,
brown and brittle
at summer’s end—
and then he is falling,
clutching at his breast,
sailing off beyond the morning light,
the midday light, every light
there ever was or will be.
Pulling her phone from her skirt
pocket, she calls her friend:
“It’s over now. Come.