We Measure Time

Posted on June 28, 2021 by merrildsmith

Monday Morning Musings:

We measure time in sunglow and moon-sighs,
in the numbers of hellos, goodbyes–
and we do it again.

We measure time in heartbeats,
the food we eat,
the hours spent with friends,

our hair greying,
our shadows growing
as wine in summer glows, easygoing

like a lazy river flowing
the memories growing—
love, family, companions—

Kayaker seen from Martine’s. Delaware River at New Hope, Bucks County, PA

Do you remember? I say,
that time, this day?
We celebrate the decades gone

and hope that more remain,
though nothing stays the same.
Still, the sun glows, the moon sighs,

hello, goodbye. Love moves through phases,
so do I. Waxing, waning, silver, gold, while the sun blazes
I might seem cold,

but I’ll still shine while you grow old.
So, measure time in love you hold
folded gently, held within–every story told.

We celebrated our wedding anniversary by walking through Bowman’s Hill Wildflower Preserve in Bucks County, PA, and then having a delightful lunch at Martine’s Riverhouse in New Hope. We walked through the town a bit, and then walked along the canal path. We couldn’t have ordered a more beautiful day. Earlier in the week, we enjoyed wine with dear friends at William Heritage Winery. On Saturday, we visited the Philadelphia Museum of Art for the first time since the pandemic, and then walked along the Schuylkill River. It rained, and then got steamy. For dinner that night, we opened some champagne and ate Indian food from Spice Affair Indian Cuisine in Swedesboro. Then ate leftovers the next night.

Schuylkill River in the Rain, June 26, 2021

Schuylkill Timeline by Jonathan Laidacker— Mural Arts

Merril’s Movie Club: We re-watched the movie About Time (2013). It’s on Netflix. I’m not especially into romantic comedies, but this one is delightful. There’s time travel, family, and searching for love. I will watch almost anything with Bill Nighy, and the father-son scenes are especially touching and funny.

Enduring Dreams

Posted on February 14, 2021 by merrildsmith

^{Reflections. The Delaware River at Red Bank Battlefield. ©️Merril D. Smith, 2021}

How does the Earth begin its spin each day?
With constancy it turns to seek the light
of sun, then sister stars dance in their way
sparkling the darkling, glimmering the night.
And with these sights, so constant and so true,
the physics of space, the motions that trace
the course of years, our course, being with you
through sorrow, more joy, a smile on your face,
even as lines delve deeper, gray grows hair,
the trees once green are dusted with the snow,
fledglings feather-wing themselves in the air
catching the currents, soaring through wind-blow—
and I watch the river glow as it flows
reflecting dreams, life, us, endures and goes.

My attempt at a Shakespearean sonnet for Ingrid’s EIF Sonnet Sunday for Valentine’s Day. I don’t quite have the meter right, but it’s a first draft and written at 6 AM. Anyway, Happy Valentine’s Day!

Ask Why

Posted on October 1, 2020 by merrildsmith

Foggy Morning, Delaware River at Red Bank Battlefield

The goddess urges—
dream of luscious ifs,

in storms and shadow-seas
see the mist rise to honeyed sun
singing of time—
recall summer petals as floating light.

A thousand sleeps were–
in bitter after-aches,
cry at the blood moon,
ask why

it shines
while the wind whispers
heart breaths–
love, there, here, always.

It’s Open Link Night at dVerse, where Mish is hosting. I never got to Tuesday’s prompt on the vatic voice, but I consulted the Oracle today, and this is where she led me.

More on Secrets

Posted on August 10, 2020 by merrildsmith

Ripples and reflections on the Delaware River at Red Bank Battlefield. Driftwood on the beach. ©️Merril D. Smith, 2020

Monday Morning Musings:

“And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don’t believe in magic will never find it.”

–Roald Dahl

There’s magic in a flower that suddenly appears

unplanted by a human hand,

This just appeared one day in our garden one day.

standing alone or scattered

to glow, new stars, comets, meteorites that fall

leaving their imprint for a brief moment

before floating away

Delaware River at West Deptford, NJ, August 2020 ©️Merril D. Smith

on river currents, secrets of time and ghost whispers drift

on ripples

A stone toss ripple in the Delaware River. ©️Merril D. Smith 2020

endless and infinite–

light that is always there–

even if we don’t see it,

like the magic of a flower,

the evanescence of a puddle,

a world existing in a moment—

Puddle Reflection

clouds part and merge again

grey becomes blue becomes grey

Water Lilies and reflections at rain garden at West Deptford Public Library ©️Merril D. Smith 2020

a mosquito strafes your face, a lone bomber

soon joined by a squadron,

the secret out in the open and not pleasant—

but magic moments

that you stumble upon,

like a secret path

those are wondrous, grace-filled seconds–

blink and you miss the magic,

Deer Family at Red Bank Battlefield, National Park, NJ

but it will come again,

perhaps when you least expect it.

Merril’s Movie Club: We watched the movie Dear Ex (Netflix). It’s a 2018 Taiwanese movie, a domestic comedy-drama about a young man whose deceased father left his insurance benefits to his male lover. I’d give it 3 stars. It was sweet and poignant, once you get to the backstory that explains more about the characters and the secrets they kept or didn’t know about. My dad would have been 101 yesterday. I’m sure he had some secrets that we’ll never know. He did love Chinese food though, so it seems appropriate that we ate it on his birthday eve.

We’re on Season Three of Bordertown. It’s also on Netflix. My husband and I are both really enjoying this show, and we will miss these characters once we’ve finished it. There are the usual gruesome murders and cases (but the show is good at not showing the gore or graphic violence), but we come to really care about Kari Sorjonen and his family and colleagues.

Cycles

Posted on July 30, 2020 by merrildsmith

“Trees are sanctuaries. Whoever knows how to speak to them, whoever knows how to listen to them, can learn the truth.” Herman Hesse

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Driftwood at Red Bank Battlefield, National Park, NJ.©️Merril D. Smith 2020

Midnight owl shadows

rodent in sharp talons—

seed drops on damp ground

seed becomes tree

roots link to other roots—

earth secrets shared

treetop flutters

crow warns of hawk–

black wings cross the sky

charcoal clouds

wind whipped waves–

the snap of a branch

branch drifts

time and tide-bleached

rests on riverbank

green boughs

lean to kiss the water clouds–

whispers, seeds fall

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Reflections on Delaware River, West Deptford, NJ ©️Merril D. Smith 2020

Frank has asked us to write a haiku sequence for dVerse. I think haiku are really difficult to write. I’m not sure if this works. I’m also linking this to Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday prompt, using the Herman Hesse quote above as a theme.

Listen, the Song

Posted on May 31, 2019 by merrildsmith

“Now I will do nothing but listen,

To accrue what I hear into this song, to let sounds contribute toward it.

I hear bravuras of birds, bustle of growing wheat, gossip of flames, clack of sticks cooking my meals. . .

From Walt Whitman, “Song of Myself,” Section 26

Now I will do nothing but listen—this song

in sunshine sweet,

of mockingbird and robin’s trills

the crow’s caws and hawk’s high screech–

the pulsing life in slapping beats

against the river’s flow

constant,

the trees’ arboreal sighs

(slow and steady)

we breath

together—

I sing the body electric,

we drift, grow, go

connected to, all part of

one, none, molecules ignited,

feel them

flaming

the ash of stars

streaming,

under streetlights and moonbeams–

we dream.

Today is the anniversary of Walt Whitman’s birth on May 31, 1819. There have been events all year, and many this week, though somehow, I’ve missed them all.

Make Way for Goslings

Posted on May 2, 2019 by merrildsmith

Golden goslings scuttle in a line

mother’s wings point, they align,

hustling to the river.

Father hisses at the stranger

–any possible source of danger—

parents are the givers

protecting their young

with honks, squawks, or tongue,

till from the river

fledglings fly away—

in time, somewhere, someday

Lillian is hosting Open Link Night at dVerse. This is a quickly written poem inspired by a walk I took this afternoon at the park by the river. I hope it’s not too treacly, but the baby geese were so cute, and I was fascinated by the family drama. I watched the goose I’m calling the mother shoo the babies towards the river. The father then hissed at one who was off exploring on the sidewalk to get with the others (you can see there are three on the grass, but four in line). The father then hissed at the other goose standing on the sidewalk, as the little ones went under the fence, and their mother then limboed under it, too. The father stood guard until they were all in the water.

Morning Walk

Posted on September 23, 2018 by merrildsmith

Morning Walk

Almost born away—

I fly by champagne clouds,

waking poetry

of morning’s moist perfumed breeze.

Angel voices celebrate the universe,

time slows. . .lingers

for one smile

Delaware Rive, Red Bank Battlefield, September

I visited the Oracle yesterday, but I didn’t have a chance to post this. She was in rare form though. I feel like she was ready to give me many more.

Flowing and Flown: Haibun

Posted on August 19, 2018 by merrildsmith

Four years ago, our older daughter married. I look at photos of that day—her and her wife, my husband and I, our guests—all of us bound by affection for these two women. On their anniversary day, I have lunch with dear friends. They were at the wedding, too. As our children have grown, we’ve now attended many weddings together. We eat, sharing stories and talking in the way old friends who are comfortable with one another do. We were all young when we met, beginning married life, beginning careers. From the restaurant window, I see the Delaware River flowing as it has for centuries, but not without change. It, too, has seen joy and sorrow come and go, and still it flows on.

New buds burst open,

butterflies savor sweetness–

spider weaves her web

This Haibun is for Colleen’s Tuesday Tanka Challenge. Colleen asked us to use synonyms for love and time. I’ve tried to create the overall feeling of each word here.

On Its Banks

Posted on June 14, 2018 by merrildsmith

“The hardest part is when the river
is too swift and goes underground for days on end”

~Jim Harrison from Songs of Unreason

Here,

heedless of morning light

or evening flight

of geese across

the river runs,

through history

of people who

in transitory transit

camped along its banks

when silver shad streamed,

fished for oysters and pearls

of wisdom

flowing from,

with,

the sea.

Rolling river

pushes and pulls

life through seasons

and time

changes

everything.

Turn, turn

around

and underground

the hidden bones

turn, turn

to dust–

ghosts walk

beside the water

dreaming of what was,

waiting for what will be.

Delaware River

This is for Day 14 of Jilly’s 28 Days of Unreason–poetry inspired by the poetry of Jim Harrison.

Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings

Tag Archives: Rivers

We Measure Time

Monday Morning Musings:

Enduring Dreams

Ask Why

More on Secrets

Monday Morning Musings:

Cycles

Listen, the Song

Make Way for Goslings

Morning Walk

Flowing and Flown: Haibun

On Its Banks