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Columbia River Gorge

Exult Road is here to uplift and celebrate life, and you. 

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The Short Way Home - a poetry blog


Jill Cooper

The eye of my attention

is with the soft win,

the hot, heart place

that incinerates

old feathers


and builds volumes

from love, songs

from clover, and

nourishment from

strands of bliss


My attention is a

winter morning

light across the

bright grass, the

sturdy tree


the ice that sings

a softening song

under the gaze of

her own deep

rosy source


The eye is on

the prolific, the

flow, the touch,

the down, the loose

belt, the clean


currency of

truth and fresh

eggs, and free

time and aging

into a new youth


The eye of my

my attention

is the brush

that paints the

story as we wish


Sweetness fuels

the clear-eyed

attention onto

the banks of the

easy river


And the garden

of the mind

in repose and

in excitement,

in creation


Where the tools

are where the

joy is where

the knowing

is stored


And the eye

of attention

for two minutes

homes in as a bird at

rest on the pleased


Because the eye

of my attention

is a goddess in a

green dress and

orange feathered



Whose wand

wields time and

filters, thread, ink

palm, light

and flame


Making things

out of the petals

ands tones and glue

and earth and dust

we shine upon


with the eye of

her attention. All

our attention is a

an outlet, a ring

as gold as wisdom


It's a circuit, a

revolution, of

homecoming, of

dinosaurs being



It's a lover in

her business suit

hurrying out

the door because

she's never late


It's the architect

of misery or joy

and cocktails

of them both, as

you wish


It's the eye on

the bad boy, or

else the diamond sky,

whichever one

you look at



It's the union

of your judgement

with your time,

it's the motion

of the breath

in your voice


It's the secret,

strings on the inner

harp of your fear

it's the secret

bass line of

your views


Attention makes

the students, and

the tricksters

and the news



Attention is a

field of infinite

rabbits, belly

laughs, and

accidental sparks,


or purposeful

flames, and

indigo dipped

feathers writing

love letters


Attention is focus

as a glass orb in sun

catches the bell

song of the light

into real flames.


Dangerous or holy,

creative only,

the eye of Our

attention makes

the world.


--Jill Cooper

©Exult Road