WALK #75

A revelation from consistently taking these walks: the sky is a diva.

Dear Sky,

I required 75

days of

walking

the same terrain

to notice

you

are a diva!

Look at

you!

And look at

me, so

blind!

WALK #74

How else would one know it's a poet taking a walk?

A Poetics

It's a poet,

not a

poem--

The poem is

less didactic,

more

discrete, or comes

across slant

like

the light you

left behind,

noise

-lessly weeping (or

laughing) at

day

WALK #73

A Bar Mitzvah, Napa style, for the young friend who was my research source for cryptocurrency information that I used in my novels. So proud of him. And I walked the lovely setting.

Bar Mitzvah

To release a

child into

adulthood

is to welcome

survival into

ethics.

Praise the Lord.

Halelu Yah.

Amen.

WALK #72

My walk was interrupted by my genius-gardener neighbor who came out to give dahlias. Aren't they all--gardener and flowers--lovely?!

During My Morning Walk

You see me

walking by

oblivious

to my surroundings

and paying

attention

only to what

sounds leak

from

my hand-held iPhone.

You ground

me

back to earth 

through lovely

dahlias

generous in scale,

color, and

variety.

In seeing them

I see

you,

humanity at its

best, and 

our

shared world. Flowers

become more

lovely

for revelations beyond

their expected

beauty.

WALK #70

Today's walk produced another riff on William Carlos Williams' iconic poem, "The Red Wheelbarrow."

THE GREEN TRACTOR

so much depends

upon

a grass-green

tractor

glazed with fermenting

must

beside the harvested

vines

WALK #69

YOU FILL IN THE BLANK

When the sun

paints, It

resurrects

King Midas whose

touch transforms

everything

into the gold

of our

______________

WALK #68

To everything there need not be a season. This year's double-Spring may achieve something at which the prior year failed. We planted this orange mandarin tree last season and it didn't fruit. But now, near November, we're seeing green possibilities for 2023 mandarins! We await with bated breath. (Hm: how does one bate a breath anyway?)

Open-Mindedness

They appear when

you're not

waiting.

But when they

appear, it's

uncertain

whether they're blessings.

Perhaps this

means

everything should exist

within its

season.

But orange mandarins

might sweeten

Christmas.

WALK #66

I couldn't walk far today as I woke up with a pain in my right foot. I'm not sure if it's because of my walks, but thought to give it a rest. Still, I did manage to walk far enough to the backyard. So I can show it to you without its flame tree. You can see a cross marked across the remaining tree stump.

A Parenthetical

A cross marks

where once

you

thrived with leaves

evoking bright

flames

But gravestones fail

at representing

fire

like how poems

cannot (re)present

you

WALK #65

Synchronistically, in today’s walk I came across flame trees to remind of what we had to cut down yesterday in the back yard. I’ve written poems on flame trees—the first time I recall seeing them were by some beach or shoreline while visiting Silliman University. I believe I was with Krip Yuson, Susan Lara and Jimmy Abad, among others. A jeepney excursion after a writers’ workshop… But am I remembering this correctly? The flame trees, even if I made them up (hah) were the only clear take-away from that experience… that solidified only because I entered them in poems. I should enter everything I want to remember in poems, even if the memories are fake. Poems make falsities real.

Focusing

Certain revelations require

fire for

erasing

small matters for

more important

revelations:

I'm reminded "poems 

make falsities

real."

WALK #64

While I did my daily walk, it was delayed by having to attend to the unfortunate circumstance of taking down what had been a magnificent flame tree in the backyard. I called it "flame tree" because, when it was healthy, it would blossom with leaves in all shades of red. Sadly, some infection within the soil started killing it ("like cancer," Tom said). The first thing the tree guys said when they arrived was something like "Boy, that tree is dying quickly!" So we took it down. Flame Tree--thank you for your presence in our first two years in this house. You were magnificent.

Photos are shown in chronological order of the tree being taken down, before its remains were pulped:

Respect

When a tree

dies, no

words

WALK #63

Tree-lined paths--whether they are roads or entrances--are favored scenic routes. Trees are often welcoming.

The Hay(na)ku of Trees

Line your paths

with trees

to

feel welcomed wherever

you may

go

WALK #61

Walking in early morning mist, a laden truck suddenly appears. It’s carrying either grapes or pomace (the solid remains after pressing grapes—like skin, seeds and stems—to make the liquid must, the first step in winemaking). With more such travelers throughout the valley, one can get deliciously perfumed by air.

Pomace

Not the leavings,

but important

ingredients

for relishing life

so much

even

air becomes an

a perfumed

embrace

WALK #60

These photographs are not about the lovely featured garden but about how quickly light can change. The two photos were taken within the same two seconds. The lesson: things can change swiftly and unexpectedly; behave appropriately, especially as regards what warrants your love.

A Certain History

If

the sun

is ever present

how

do sunlit

days become rare?

WALK #59

Whenever I see a house amidst vineyards, I feel it as a jewel inlaid within a beautiful setting. It is one of the most romantic sightings possible.

Once upon a time, I had that hope. Then wildfires came... which makes it doubly poignant whenever I spy a house like this. Once upon a time, I had that hope:

Vineyard Architecture

If houses are

judged by

gardens,

then vineyards create

palaces from

shacks.

WALK #58

I'm not the only poet who's raised the ferocity of flowers in their poetry. Ferocious flowers, like these white-bloomed lovelies who refuse to abide by the lines drawn by hedges. Grin. The images also says something about poetics: break proscriptions and be more beautiful for doing so.

A White-Petalled Flower Disrupts the Hedge's Neat, Green Line

We broke rules

all the

way

to the most

satisfactory result:

Beauty

WALK #57

Birds are no small matter. Flying wild animals can trip utility lines and, in worst cases, create wildfires. This can happen when an electrocuted bird falls to the ground and, with ground being drought-dry nowadays, spark a fire. It also happens as follows:

A bird can rest on one wire with no problem. But touching two wires simultaneously or touching one wire and a piece of grounded equipment, such as a transformer, can cause trouble.

“When electrocutions happen, it’s not unusual for the water in the animal cells to be instantly turned to steam,” said James Dwyer, a wildlife biologist also at E.D.M. International and a co-author of the paper. “It explodes the cells, and it’ll blow off a limb.”

--from "How An Electrocuted Bird Might Start a Wildfire" by Carolyn Wilke, The New York Times, June 29, 2022

It's the zeitgeist that when I see a bird perched on a utility wire nowadays, the above is what comes to mind. I used to just wave cheerfully at them. C'est la vie.

No Small Matter in Wildfire Country

May birds forever

soar against

sky,

their trails as

joyous as

I

hope our community

will be

forever.