NEW NAMES

He received a new name today.
It says he is someone new,
someone the sunshine will bless.
This name never blames, only praises.
It lives in his heart,
and wears its letters
like a prince inside him.
It might as well be the name
of Summer, or Celebration,
it's that special.
Tomorrow, he'll receive another name,
and the next day, and the next.
You can do this too.

THE BROKEN SKY

One warm evening
the sky was suddenly broken.
There was a crash
and a shout from friends
afraid of being separated,
and then the pieces
of the precious sky
descended upon our simple lives,
our lives that shine
at every compliment,
that sing whenever someone loves us.
We stood outside
and saw the shards of the sky
settling in the trees
like invitations to happiness,
like calls to stop struggling
and just see.
There was sky in the streets
and sky in the pockets of friends.
We came home to our families
with specks of blue
and grains of gold in our hands.

HE WAS DRINKING

He was drinking the darkness
one night, and he never stopped,
so the darkness didn't stop either,
didn't stop stuffing his life
with the little pleasures of darkness --
the way lights shine
only when it's dark, the way
water in darkness can sparkle
like shaking stars, the way
a wish sent into the darkness
doesn't die, but spreads
its wings and disappears
and helps him have hope.

THIS MORNING

There were sweeter songs
this morning. The water in the shower
sang of days of peace,
and all his steps across the rooms
convinced him that people
were singing in happiness
in many places. The blood
in his veins wasn't struggling
but singing, and his hands
rose and fell when he asked,
just like the melodies of Mozart.
He knew the face of the earth
was smiling as it listened.
The lamps of his life
were all lighting up
as the music of Tuesday
was starting.

SIX O'CLOCK

Six o'clock, he said
to a student ...
be here by six o'clock,
and then he went
where there were no clocks,
no deadlines,
no do's and don'ts,
just spring sunshine
in its joyous dress.
He jumped up
a few times,
just to find the spring
in his life again,
the buoyancy
that brings him
and the sunshine
and his conscientious students
around to six o'clock.

NO POWER

"Afternoon in Spring", oil, by Don Gray

There was no power at his school,
so he sat outside
and used the sunshine
as his power, and prayed
to the powerful flowers
in the garden, and gave thanks
to the forces in the fresh grass.
It was good to get strength
from a light breeze
blowing by, 
and from  a tree
full of youthful birds
that had no need of
laptops and lights.

FOOTSTEPS IN THE LIBRARY

He heard footsteps
across the carpet --
a student carrying
his books to a table.
He thought of footsteps in a forest
when he was a boy,
when news was brought
of the wide wilderness
surrounding his life.
He lay in a little tent
and tried to see in his mind
the making of stars
millions of miles away,
and the way silence
stretches around us
with no bounds.

His small footsteps
to the circulation desk
sounded far off,
like stars stepping
across the universe
above the tiny town
and its small school
and library.

HELLO

"Hello," he heard,
and then a happy sparrow
sang some old song,
and a stretch of grass
gave a shout as a breeze
blew across it,
and six clouds came together
and created something handsome
above his head.

He held up his little life,
looked at it,
and let it blow off
in a brand new breeze.

SHY RAIN

The rain was shy,
with nothing to say
but some splashes
on the stones beside the school.
It came quietly,
like it was looking
to pass by quickly
with no one noticing.
He never knew rain
would worry about being seen,
or that clouds, maybe,
would make themselves small
so someone outside in spring
would see the sunshine
instead of the clouds,
and the clouds could carry on
with their journeys
in silence and solitude.
He, too, was shy,
just seeking to blend
with the background,
so he understood the ways
of this bashful shower
as it sought to escape
and just be itself
in the woods
beyond the school.

STRAIGHT

He wants to stand straighter,
so he searches for things that are straight
to show him the way,
but surprisingly,
he finds very few.
The far-off clouds always curve
and lean over,
and most trees
make crookedness seem handsome.
The years have disfigured
some of the hills he sees, 
and even the streets
twist around in misshapen ways.
He guesses 
it's sometimes good
to be bent,
the way trees are
when they lean down
to look at the spring grass,
the way the wind is
when it tilts along a hill.


He'll keep his back
as straight as possible,
but he'll still have praise
for things that bend and bow.

LISTENING

He heard
his mighty heart
holding itself steady
in his chest.
He heard a tree
telling its story to a storm,
and the tires of cars
singing the songs of open roads.
When we walked,
he heard coins calling out in his pocket.
He heard heaven
quietly opening its doors
every moment of his day.
He heard happiness
sailing in his bloodstream
like the softest boats.

WAITING

He was waiting

for the computer to boot up,

but he was also waiting

for wide-open ideas,

and for the wildness

of letting in

whatever ideas come.

The computer will come alive

when it wants to,

but ideas bring their insights

second by second,

and he needs to know

how to hold the doors open

and help them come in.

Ideas don’t stay

unless we welcome them,

so his arms are always open,

even as the computer

is calling his name

with its promising wisdom.

A DAY FOR DARING

One day,
he didn't do what was on his list,
didn't go by the guidelines,
didn't follow the right road.
It was a day for daring.
The clouds cared little for rules,
the trees tried new tricks
with the wind, and
whatever came to his mind
moved like reckless things,
like fish finding new rivers,
like stars circling
in fresh patterns.

WHAT HE DOESN'T UNDERSTAND

He overheard someone at school say,
"There's something you don't understand,"
and he said to himself, "Of course,
because there are trees
that turn in mystifying ways,
and clouds that come from nowhere,
and new ideas that don't seem
to ever actually start or stop,
and present moments like puzzles
with secret solutions."

He said there's a lot he doesn't understand,
and it's getting worse
and more inspiring
at the same time.

A MINUTE

He wonders how far the earth
speeds through space in one minute,
or how many leaves sprout
in the trees in his yard,
or how many thoughts
the human race thinks.
Once he watched a second hand turn
for a full minute
while the sun made explosions
in some trees. Another time
he focused on a single shining idea
for sixty seconds,
and the idea
didn't stop shining,
and still doesn't.

A MESS

One day there was a thought
that tasted like honey,
and another that tasted
like peas with sweet butter
spread across them.
Then a thought presented itself
like a plate of pasta
with a zesty sauce,
followed by a thought
that sent up aromas
of the best strawberries.
He grew confused.
The thoughts were strewed across
the table of his mind,
a mess, for sure,
but a serene sort of mess,
since all the thoughts
were just where they must be.

THERE WAS RAIN

There was rain,
and then there was winter
that wouldn't leave,
and then there was snow
in his thoughts,
snow that spread
so his life looked lovable,
and he let out his arms
like light wings
and lifted away from the school,
and the students looked up
and shouted,
"Stay with us, Mr. Salsich.
We need to know
about base clauses
and balance in sentences!" --
but he cruised across a cloud
and was seen no more.