Living Zen Life

The national folk epic of Finland, The Kalevala,
tells of the foreboding "cold spring wind."
It's here today in Seattle.
Being of centuries old Finnish ancestry
I feel quite at home sitting outside
as the wind roars through the trees.

This is a thing I think about in solitude -
where I come from and where I'm going.
The cold spring wind is the story of waiting
as cold winds blow over still melting ice and snow.

With Carol I visited Finland
she enduring with great grace
our visits to the homes of every cousin
and there are many indeed!
Endless pots of coffee were poured out
trays loaded with buns cakes and pastries were eaten!
They were pleased to meet an American cousin
and sit all around the room speaking of family.
They had not left their  lands 
as my grandmother did in 1911.
The lands are utterly rural - flat farmland 
autumn stubble on all sides surrounded by deep forest.

My Finland and Michigan homes are in my past -
grandparents, parents, American and Finnish cousins.
There is no one I can to talk to of my ancient story.
All I can do is think of it from time to time
consider how their blood and mine 
share something deep and old.

My Michigan cousins I grew up with 
are still in Michigan or are gone.
There is not a reason I know of 
for me to go home again.
Seattle is my chosen home and my last home.

Carol's two daughters and granddaughter 
remain in my life but with her gone
our bonds weaken as the years pass.
I don't know how long we can keep it together
I'll do my best but their lives remain in front of them.
I've written of Carol, their mother and grandmother,
but I've not told them of my writings.
I don't know whether I ought to or not
if they would care to read what I've written
what they would think.
Their memories and stories are theirs to tell.

It's a cold spring wind kind of thing
blowing through me carrying 
remains of loss and winter away.
The wind blows cold tonight
but it blows through the fulness of spring
leaved branches and flowers opening all around.