The Feast of St. Francis

Sisters of St. Francis of the Neuman Community

from "Canticle of the Sun," by St. Francis of Assisi: "Be praised, my Lord, through Brothers Wind and Air, and clouds and storms, and all the weather, through which you give your creatures sustenance."

Bird-song rises 

in clear, liquid waves

as golden leaves arc

twisting

to the ground.

Heavy gold

must fall.

October heat

gives way 

to winter rain,

yet inevitably life flows

like the breeze

rising from the broad sea

to the high Sierra;

grey clouds rise

and heavy snow falls.

All the living waters

give praise.

(10/4/2013 - 10/29/2017)

Fall Leaves

Photo: Brian Federle, Camping, March 2010.

Wind-ripped leaves
cover my yard

severed flesh, leathery
fingers splayed
grip the brick walkway.

Flush winter roses
drop petals,
red shrouds cover
glistening gold veins
sundered
from ravaged trees.

Yet the trees survive.

mimicking death’s
grey angularity
oblivious to the wind,

nude limbs
lean into the howling storm
and dream of June breezes,
singing green afternoons,
the faithful thrush
thrusting new life to flight.

But for now
black clouds gather

the winter wind sings dirges
for these sacrificial leaves
nourishing the famished earth.

(11/18/2010)
re-post 10/25/2017

Miserere

i

In October

golden days suddenly fly

as unexpected,

brutal

nights arise.

ii

You died last spring

when love seemed

to promise life

never ending.

iii

Thirty-one years before,

when I first held you,

your bright eyes

gazed on me

with wonder,

my son —

my love at first sight!

iv

But the cruelty of March

surpasses even winter’s rage.

I prayed for God’s mercy

On that bright, green day.

but bereft in my soul,

only bitter darkness

remains.

Wildfire Close to Home

“The whole idea of compassion is based on a keen awareness of the interdependence of all these living beings, which are all part of one another, and all involved in one another. “ Thomas Merton

Night streaks the afternoon sky.

Smoke pours through trees
riots through suburban streets,
flames snarl, snap in the meadow,
the red beast
just beyond the fence.

I feel its glare
as wild heat brushes my brow.

Crossing arms, I walk
quickly, first to the corner,
then to the threatened house,
where my young neighbor
clutches her baby
and wonders
when will it be time to flee,
leave home,
abandon furniture, new carpets, tv
dreams of
safety.

We watch and wait
for the calm firemen
to arrest this marauder,
cool its rage,
restore to ordered life
this blue July day.

2012 - 2017

Disasters of War

Iron soldiers,

astride their power,

grip swords

stand poised

wait for the order

to stain red

the innocent earth

as women,

naked bellies swollen,

watch flashing steel

steal away their children,

those

who play

at their bare feet

and those

who yet swim

in warmer pools.

Pacifica Seawall, October

Photo: Pacifica Seawall, 4 Oct 2014, Brian Federle

We dropped by your house today

and sat in the new chairs

under the gnarled tree

and spoke of you.

We walked to the wall

that separates ocean

from land, and observed waves

rising, mighty, lunging at rocks

beneath our feet.

We spoke your name

there, to the moaning sea.

(Oct 4, 2017)

Summer River

“It might be good to open our eyes and see.” Thomas Merton

ore’ shading trees' hanging leaves cast green sheen on waters, on the deep unbroken mirror when, rising from night it breaks lightning and draws first breath of thin air - and, discovery made, falls back into the cool watery shade.

The Whole Song

"We must learn to respond not to this or that syllable, but to the whole song." 
Thomas Merton

You say

"be not afraid,"

yet this darkness is

complete.

A well of silence lies 

beneath my feet 

as I try to feel

my way back to you.

How can I be brave

when all around me rush

rivers of anguish, tears

overflowing life’s banks?

Terror fills the sky.

In dark flashes

my sight declines,

and endless night

encroaches the edge

of vision.

Will you lift me

if I stumble 

and fall?

Oh, call softly

and with seeing

fingers I'll find 

your healing 

hands again.

(2013, 2017)

Moss Landing

Framed in darkness

Like birds in deep silence

The sky and sea breathe

In steel blue longing

Remembering the dying sun

And the cries of gulls diving.

On insubstantial sand

We watch an impossible ship

Moving and not moving

Like a silent cloud 
at the edge of the world.

I can see no men aboard

Although I know they are there. 

I know they are in steel rooms,

Warmed by twisting turbines,

Softly cursing,

Listening to the night.

The sand moves under us

As we walk to the sea.

Our steps change forever the earth.

The sea changes forever,

We change the sky with our breath

And wind-blown sand covers our feet.

Yet we move,

And for a while we walk

Away from the sea.

The sea will change.

The sky will change.

They will wait.

There’s no hurry.

In memoriam: Arthur Federle, 1978, Brian Federle, 2017

(1979. 2017)