Wind Work

To be is too much work.

I crave the wild and wistful wind;

Some days my edginess creeps

in so far — there’s nothing

for it but to go out and let

the wind do its work:

soul building

grace restoring

dust clearing.

The stronger the wind, the longer

I linger. I lean on its breath.

Then, when the world again is

still and the creatures return

to industry, I feel myself moving

through and through the trees;

around and down the river,

into open meadow green and

I am as free and wild again

as the zephyrous wind.



Afraid of life, she listens to

them tell her how different

she is; she takes it to heart

at first. Watch her try, try

try to be like them but

no matter how hard she tries,

she is not like them.

Somewhere along the equation

she realizes that different than

is not less than;

it is equal to. Sometimes (maybe

mostly) different than, plus

different than equals a sum

far greater.

The Enclosure of the Heart

Like a sprouting seed, love climbs

the enclosure of the heart

that has at last allowed

the light of grace to reach it,

tendrils — fragile and leggy —

pull it up and out

of its dark place,

deep in the dank ragged

edges of loneliness

until it flowers, spilling

all its fragrance and color

on any one who will stop and listen.


Listen to me,

Since you are willing to risk all,

Though the earth dissolve,

What have we to fear?

All power on earth can be overcome

By the will of Love,

Which is so soft that it melts

at a touch.

So splendidly beautiful that

the embrace will forever be

rooted far down into the earth.

The Color of Your Heart

(Written for my art students at Howard Street Charter School, 2012)

The color of your heart is deep and wide–

It gathers all around me

And fills my days with laughter rich

And teaches me to be

More colorful myself, spilling all

My deepest hues

(Those I tend to hide inside)

Instead of showing them, like you.

Together we can paint the world to

Create a masterpiece

Of love and harmony and then

Our world can be at peace.

No Monsters Here

(a poem written for my students in 2011, after news of a school shooting incident)

Four walls around us protect

Not only from the elements,

But from the ‘Out There’;


In here, there are no monsters;

Hydras, Chimeras, Griffins

and Dragons, STAY OUT!


There is a bubble around

Us–we are safe and sound.

Even if you pound, pound, pound,


We won’t worry because

In this room no monsters

Roam; we shine in this room.


“I graduated from Jefferson High School in 1944, in a class of 14. Two of my classmates were already in the armed services.

When the war ended, my sister went back to Nebraska to be with her husband but I was in love with Oregon, so I stayed here. Fortunately some very good people: Lettie Stansberry Mixell and Bud and Laura Wattenbarger, took me in and sort of looked after me. They became life long friends. Eventually I married James Wied, whose grandparents homesteaded a lot of land around Jefferson. They were also related to Jacob Conser, who founded the city of Jefferson, which was first named Santiam City (and it was on the other side of the river). There was no bridge, so the only way to cross the river was by horse-drawn ferry. Eventually there was a flood and Santiam City was no more. It was re-named Jefferson. Jacob Conser built the house which is now the library.

A doctor would come to Jefferson by train. When the mother of my husband and his two sisters was 13 years old, a young man was enamored of her, but she rejected his advances. He brought a note to her class room saying someone outside wanted to see her and when she got outside, he hit her in the head with an axe and buried her in the wood pile. Fortunately it didn’t kill her. He was apprehended and served a long jail sentence. However Lulu died quite young as a result of the injury. I learned of this incident after I married into the Wied family and read many reports of it when I was doing genealogy research. Some of it even appeared in the San Fransisco papers.

Jefferson has grown a lot residentially in the last years, but not as much business-wise. Of course some of us like the small town flavor!”

–Marcella King Wied