October 22: Waxing moon

I turn to the moon

for answers, but the moon's face

is blank as ever.

 

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October 10: Coat of Arms

Three crows flying

on a field of clover green

quartered by blue sky.

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October 9: Reading signs

When something important with an uncertain outcome happens, I think our natural tendency is to look for signs around us that might indicate how things will end up. But this can work either way if you look too closely:

A.
After the interview
two road-killed porcupines
and a broken wiper.

B.
After the interview
burnished, rain-bright, seaside field,
year's cheapest gas.

March 31: Rapid Redemption

Inspired by the sign of a bottle redemption center on Route 17 on the way to Augusta:

Rapid Redemption
Turkey Vultures soar high
scanning for roadkill

August 9: Signs

Signs fascinate me with their often unwitting poetic potential. Wherever I'm driving I pay attention to signs--decorative to crude, whimsical to downright weird. For a while I kept a running list of names of hair salons, which seem particularly prone to awful puns. Driving today on Route 17 I was inspired by one particular sign for a bottle redemption center, seen shortly before the sign for S & M Radiator.
 
"Rapid Redemption"--
Is grace really as easy
as returning cans?

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December 9: Signs

This morning we were importunately awakened at 4:30 by our old cat, who had an accident while lying in bed between my husband and me. After we stripped the bed and started a load of laundry, we were both up for the day. I'm not normally a morning person, so this was found time. I got in my run at the gym at the beginning of the day rather than the end. I called the vet and made an appointment. Then I got a call that the guy was finally coming to replace our broken microwave oven. So I had about an hour to do the errands I had planned to spread out over this day off. With the last load in the washing machine and the cat curled up on the couch (on a towel), I rushed off to Reny's.

I do a lot of my thinking while in my car. This morning my mind was full of my beloved cat, whom I adopted almost exactly 16 years ago. Her health is declining and various medications don't seem to be helping her. I looked up into the morning's beautiful blue sky and asked for some sort of sign, something to let me know that she'd be ok, or that I'd be ok if she's not. Be careful what you wish for.

Back home, after remaking the bed, taking care of some other chores, getting the kitchen ready for the microwave installer, and cleaning up the cat's latest mishap in the bathroom and getting her soothed and re-settled on the couch, two elderly gentlemen knocked at the door. They wanted to tell me about the life of Jesus. It being the Christmas season and all, that certainly seems appropriate. If you're Christian. Which I don't consider myself to be. So that's what I told them, kindly, reassuring them that yes, I have a source of spiritual comfort in these dark times, just not Christian comfort.

Just then the microwave installer showed up and I was distracted by that, but it later occurred to me in a moment of spiritual panic that maybe the visit by the two men was my sign. And I just blew it with God.

I'm watching the river flow between two snowy banks right now, thinking about how easily we can allow the mundane to distract us from the spiritual. But sometimes the mundane is the spiritual. If the divine is to be found in a book of stories about Jesus, then why am I more uplifted watching a flock of doves lift off the bird seed I scattered in the driveway?

Cat's soft white throat, purr--
this is my comfort for now.
And for tomorrow...?

March 23: Stop Sign

At the end of Mill Street where it intersects with Mount Battie Street, someone has added words onto the stop sign so it looks like this:

STOP

AND REFLECT

If it weren't pouring rain and dark right now, I'd go take a picture of this sign to show you. I have a penchant for signs and what they can convey about a place. My favorite artsy project last year was to put together a photo book documenting Monhegan Island through its signs. I particularly enjoy it when people are creative with existing signs, as with my neighborhood's stop sign. And in fact, when I am stopped there, I do take an extra moment before continuing on my way. I'm often paused in front of this sign as I'm hurrying back to the office, so its message conveys a lesson that can be eerily appropriate for my current mood. 

Another stop sign in town that has been creatively embellished stands over at the Simonton's Corner intersection. It reads:

DON'T

STOP

DANCING

Two buildings away from this sign is an old community hall where contra dances are often held. When I'm stopped at this sign, it never fails to make me smile as I imagine someone sneaking over to it after a wild night of dancing and commemorating the evening in this wonderful way. 

Stop sign gives me pause.

Don't just sit there, it says. Think.

Be in the moment.