Meditation on Shimmering Palms and Floaters

Meditation on Shimmering Palms

On more days and nights, an invalid,
In pain and loss, I often just want to go...
Unconscious;
But then, again, I stare out
To the wind and sun
From our upstairs
Window;

There towering above, 2 lone palms
In sight from my weak haven,
Swaying in that blue expanse
In a lively coastal wind,
Their mop-tops of slender fronds
Shimmering
Like flashing magnesium flares
From brilliant reflecting
Sunshine.

Those two undulating sentinels dance
over/above my fading consciousness,
Ailing awareness--
Two unconscious messengers,
While I lay here filled with sacred
Remembrance, mindful
Of my former festive living,
Becoming, and doing...

Yes, the wonder of being a human primate
Living!
but finite so brief,

This
Gift,
this Present
Shimmering--
Then we’re gone.

Only the Center, the Light
Everlasts.



-Dan Wilcox

--
FLOATERS--a poetic reflection on autumn, the season,
and late life

I, often spent to despair,
For lost hope yearning;
Tried for years to rescue others
Caught in those tangled news hours
Of hellish hate, intolerance, despair,

Wrong right-leftist spinners,
Those creedalists and secularists
Both deniers of the morally real--
Their abyss of modern sheol winter.

Stop!
Abandon this somber cellared lament,
this dirge,

Instead, listen to hope!
My sweetheart suggests,
Let’s visit
A coastal winery!
Say, I do,
We do.

Hobbling with walker out,
She drives along a winding river valley,
We arrive, expectant,
Hoping for zest;
Then, listening to soft music,
Sipping small glasses of moscato and merlot

Enjoying a glad refreshment day,
Mellow and casual,
Light of heart,
Carefree, contented
In California’s autumn’s wonder
Below tall sycamores and elms;

After Thanksgiving before winter;
We bask in 86-degree warmth,
When unexpectedly a slightly curled
Leaf floats down before
My eyes,
And lands gently on my lap,
A died wonder for us to behold;

Then another drifter
Lets go from a large limb above,
A deep rust-brown leaf spattered
With light tan highlights and vein-lines,
Descends in front of us,

Swaying back and forth,
Languid,
Lightly
Floating down
Inches away from us,
Landing nearby
On the lawn;

I lay with my head way back,
Gazing up to the sky's azure blue,
As other gifts let go every few moments
From high above,
Swinging wide and gentle,

Falling beauty in slow motion,
Floating, swaying;
I realize—here, now--
With this Present--
I could die free, released.


In the LIGHT,

-Dan Wilcox