Amid the noise and the dinners, the rushing and the Zooms, the texts and the nexts…
I wonder if the chickadees, busy all daygathering sunflower seeds to hideamid the trees, worry about the winter–the snow, the ice, the dark, the storms?Or do they just…
Look closely and you might finda bird on a branchwith its fluffy feathersis an everyday portal to heaven.
If you were seven and you were luckyyou would come home from schooland your mother or your fatheror someone else who cared for youwould give you a gingerbread…
As I step outsidemy house (where thewood-stove is glowingand there are yellowbananas in the bowl),into the grey, gusty,sogginess of November,I notice the worldlives saturatedwith the cycle of endsand…
Evenasit’srainingthebirdskeepfeeding.I guess they know a “bird” is mostly water and world-stuff anyway.
When I was a kid, I liked to finda wishing well – the kind you’d droppennies into and hope for a Rubik’s Cube.Sometimes, I’d try to glimpse thebottom…
Maybe today it’s enoughto drink mint tea and eatginger biscuits while thechickadees chuckmillet and the squirrelssteal sunflower seeds.I can fix the world another day.
I was clutching my problems so hard my hands were hurting.So I let goanddroppedthem. The funny thing?Nothing broke at all.
We will get out the rakeand scrape away the crudof striving, the golf scores,the quartz counter-tops,the shiny car. We will dig throughthe compacted earth of achievement,the rubble of…
Last night at six o’clockor thereabouts, I flirted withmy dusky side, my uncertain,unstable, darkly side,when grey rocks glowedmoonly and silvery mothsbrushed me. Last night the wind forgotto blow…
Let me remember the stoic things,the stable, stolid, standing things. The rocksslowly cracked by ice and roots,the lightninged pine, the holed hemlock,the bass awaiting a winter blocked by…
There are timeswhen the thing to dois to simply be,to gather pillowsand tea, and watchthe blue jaysand the squirrelslive their ordinarythrough the window.
Is life found in the brackish parts and the misty parts, in the delicious gray of half-knowings and maybes? Are we only fully open when half-in-half-out(half-not-sure)? Perhaps this…
One day I’ll let go ofthe screwdriver, the hammerand the wrench. I’ll put the nailsback in their box, the top screwedon the Super Glue. I’ll tear upplan B,…
Is there anything more delightful than a freshly unwrapped bar of soap, whose corners will never be as sharp as they are today?
I can’t decide if I shouldbuy stocks or sell gold,whether the trail to the right is betterthan the path to the left or ifbutterscotch is superiorto caramel. I…
Let me rememberto loosen my grip onthe steering wheel of life,allow my hands to relax,my elbows to sink. Let the roadtake me, the wheels rolland notice – yes…
Can I sink into the shades of brown,the mushroom, bark, earth?Let me inhalethe mud, the chestnut horse.Shades of brown so nourishing,I will let red alone.
John,we will call him that,got himself all upsetabout the neighborand what he didand how disrespectfuland rudeand thoughtless he was;so distressedJohn could not sleepand was angrymuch of the time.Then…
On a sullen day with agentle breeze, the heavyhemlock, the bronzed beech,the peeling bark – they’re allsoftly moving in a danceof aliveness.
Let us go nowhere slowlyand find the world –the woodpecker knockand the chickadee float.Let us love the gigglingchoir of the stream andthe brave clover shoots.Let us go nowhere…
Look at naturewith its thousand treesand their million leaves.Billions of sperm,trillions of bacteria.Mosquitoes,dragonflies,moths. So much,so wastefullyefficient.
It’s curious how autumn can smelldelicious, warmly loamy, earthy, cozy.The crispy leaves trap the heat,the nourishing nuts in woodchuck’s nest.There’s bark and twigs, seeds and thorns.It’s gorgeous, nutritious,…
Sometimes when I want toget out of my head I reachfor a beer and other timesI visit a tree and notice itsthirteen shades of brown and itsAppalachian bark,…
A fresh leaf in fall,the chipmunk with hiccups,a soft mossy forest,some quartz in a stone.A new blue flower,the breeze in the branches,that cheep from the sparrow,a far wisp…
Will this Monday be the dayI learn to sweep the world’sfallen leaves; when Post-its and dollarscan be brushed aside to revealthe sweet ground of life? Will this be…
How curious, says he one daywhile sitting on the couch,how life can be full in the headwith its to-dos and its bills,it’s difficult conversationsand its 2pm dates. And…
The kitchen smells of limethis morning – a zesty Hi!from the night before. Outside is fog,inside is Florida. Like a kick of joy in a groggy dream.