Wildfire in Paradise

The burnt sky of

Paradise, drifts

towards the sea.

On acrid breezes

ashes fall —

promises scattered

and consumed,

as the sun —

its dark,

bloody husk,

exposed at last —

hangs, ruined.

11/11/2018

Tahachipi

Golden heights,

dry undulations,

the etched road

flowing

to distant ridges,

to promised breakers

crashing

under the deep Pacific sky

of wide California.

Abernathy Road Roundabout

Bronze angel, strong arms

lifting the rainbow,

you stand in the center.

Our fast cars veer around

north, then east

to shop, to school,

to home

but we can’t see

what you see.

Even the truckers,

who lumber down

Abernathy Road

and enter the circle

with heady grapes

ready for press, for barrel,

for thick, green bottle

steer past you.

Our lives are scheduled over-full.

We all have

some place else to go

until unfulfilled,

we return at last

to your bright center, 

and in your embracing arms

we rest.

(16 July 2011)

Author's note:

Image: Mother Nature by Lisa Reinertson, in traffic circle at Rockville and Abernathy Roads, Suisun Valley, CA.

Hope at Sunset

Photo: Brian Federle, Oregon, 2014


Across the fading valley

The silver bay shines,

effulgent edge

under twilight hills.

Confined

flat waters

cut a thin line

beneath dark heights.

Saw-toothed ridges

rip thin clouds

to ragged shreds —

the plunging sun ignites

the resplendent light

of love

for this sad, winter world. 

Evening Prayer

Wind stirs in expectation,
softly strokes my face.

The March sun reassures,
warms my pale flesh
through layers of thick sweater
and winter coat.

Under indigo hills
new grass flows,
yellow and green,

as past distant ranges,
to the sky-bright, rounded sea
it flees and sends
a gift of clouds,
aflame
in glory.

Peace to the grass of the fields!
Peace
to dark hills and drifting clouds,
and to the sacrificial sun
peace!

(21 March 2014)

Atonement

"There must be a time when the man of prayer

 goes to pray as if it were the first time 

in his life he had every prayed."  Thomas Merton

Grey mist

rises and falls

enfolding parched hills

easing autumn’s harsh pain

saturating the spreading valley

with gathering rain

and mercy.

(1 Oct. 2012)

At Caritas

I gaze

through the undergrowth

into deeper woods.

Redwoods rise,

limbs link tree

to brother tree,

climbing high

to the bright

coastal fog.

Walking out

I see the three,

still as lawn ornaments,

frozen in motion,

stunned

by my sudden form.

They stand and gaze

and reassured

by my stasis,

at last with lazy gait

back they move

into the nodding

trees.

(3 May 2016)

The Light in November

Photo: Brian Federle,  Oregon, 2012.

The light in November slants low.
It fills my eyes as I glance
askance through amber trees
and see the leaves descend in
gold flashes
past my open window.

The autumn sun skirts
my low Suisun hills
casting deep shadows
along the ebbing marsh

where wading egrets probe
still, black waters

and finding their prize
rise to blue heaven,
white, slender wings
elegantly beating
the softly falling sun.

(2012-2017)

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)

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)

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)

Twilight at the Seawall

Photo: Kaela Roster, March 2016

Dark hills,

glowing sky,

indigo fast fading

to black,

while on the edge of fire

incandescent embers

hurry the wheeling world

round ancient paths.

But see how, 

newly awakened,

the cool moon ascends,

awash in reflected glory,

full and round, 

and lovely.

(2011 - 2017)

Light, directly infused

Photo Brian Federle, Sunset at Carlsbad, Jan. 2016

“Faith reaches the intellect not through the senses

 but in a light directly infused by God.” Thomas Merton

Rising from the sea

 death’s veil

overwhelms me.

Brief day fails,

fills the sky

with starry sails

wandering planets,

moonbeams

cold and bright –

holy spirit

of faithful night.

(2012: 2017)

Rockville Road

soft sweep

of gentle hills

fallow fields

famished

for black seed

worked earth

glistening

in late rain

listening

to songs of

spring

as every

narrow

furrow

waits

(20 July 2013)

The Waiting

The fields are ready,
furrows made deep
for farmers’ prize seed.

Vineyards recede
into straight narrow lanes.
and twisted vines
in cruciform lines
conceal summer’s new wine.

They wait, well quenched
by winter’s rain.
Sweet tears
drench the ground with
baptismal springs,
and leafy green shade
will soon to spread
over orchard lanes.

We wait
as the moon, crescent mother
cradles her star-swollen belly,
and amorous crickets leap into the night
to sing her a waiting lullaby.

Chocolate Hills

the green world drinks

the blue sky dry;

life’s tender leaf declines

while ancient cambrian

fire survives.

(17 March 2013)

Storm Clouds in October

Grey,

torn, and twisted

they fill the sky

with the slow motion

of gods.

Scraping hills

rising past the dry heights

they promise rain

and new life.

(25 Oct. 2016)