Posts – Page 3

Morning story

On this sleepy morning of nothingnesswhen I count every needle on the hemlock tree,a woodpecker lands in its alivenessand I wake up.

His ancient song

On this still morningthe chickadee calls home,his ancient songas usual as the sunrise.

Questions of wonder

Let me grow down againand allow the simplequestions of wonderto fill my open heart.

Pearls

Dark clouds, heavy rain,pearls on every tree.

Mirrors

What, asked Bird, if we are simply mirrorsreflecting the wholeness of the world?

How easy it is to lowerour minds and fail to noticethe sun through the trees. Blind to paradise, we seekit in places away from hereand far from now. And so we wonderwhy happiness slipsthrough our grasping hands. Then one day we wake upand laugh at how readilywe missed what’s here.

Moon

I like to step outinto the dark of nightwhere only the moonis watching.

It just works

One day you’ll learn, said Bird,the world works perfectly just as it is.All you need do is play your part.

Plum

I will plant a plum treeby the dusty gravel patchand hope one dayto bake a delicious pieof gratitude.

Can never reach

It takes stillness and trustto remember our greatesttruth is buried deep inside uswhere the noise of the worldcan never reach.

Seeds

The seeds I sowedin little black potsunder chicken wireneed ice and snowto germinatewhich is why I trustspring will cometo every one of useven when it seemsour winter will never end.

Circle of life

Don’t be afraid of the wolvesthat howl over the lakefor they eat the deerthat eat your Hostas.

The dead are smiling

There’s a cemetery in Pariswhere they don’t cut the grass,vines twist free and flowerssway over mossy stones.I like to think the dead are smilingwith so much life around them.

Glad resignation

Still morning before snowstormwhen there’s nothing to dobut wait and accept.

Rays

Simply waitingfor the first rays of heavento peep throughthe cracks in thought.

Rock time

So much to do,such places to go. Meanwhile, the rocks wait.Another’s footstepswill touch them soon.

Falling for uncertainty

Inside my chest is a gaping holeof uncertainty. Sometimes I liketo fall into it, knowing I will becaught by the gentlest of love.

Allow it in

Isn’t it ironic, he said,that the easiest wayto mend what ails usis to quietly relaxand allow it in.

The empty place

Why does the worldinsist on rattling me?On poking me?On dazzling me?When truth`is found in the empty placewhere everything is.

Un-decision

I will chooselike it doesn’treally matter.

Ever-decreasing circles

Perhaps the secretis to travelin ever-decreasing circlesuntil we returnto the centreof our selves?

Turkey

Turkey feet form perfect arrowsin the snow. You can follow them,if you wish, on their wandering path.Pointing somewhere,going somewhere else.Walking in desire.

Looking

Staring at a squirrelstaring at me. The world looking at itself.In love.

Death and life

Let the flowers grow,let the flowers die. Remember next year comes.

Ache of awe

The bird fliesand takesmy breathwith it.

Where do we go?

Where do we gowhen life’s glitter fades,when we can eat and drink no more,when we’re done talking and laughing? We go to stillness,where joy lives.

Peekaboo

Remembering can bethe funniest thing.Where do you goand how can I forgetyou have gonewhen you come backso easily?

Accidental goodness

Forgotten seeds, burrowed holes.The world is full of accidental goodness. It helps to remember that.

Glass, the great liar

Glass, the great liar,pretending to give us the world,but opaque to the truth in the air.

This is enough

Chickadees pluck a seed,fly away, then come backand pluck another. This is their day,this is their life,this is enough.

Instead listen

I won’t try to change the worldbut insteadlistenand let the worldtell me howit is.

Pry open

Do I dare quiet myselfand let wonderpry openmy heartto the world?

Little green comet

Little green cometdilute my troublesin the truth of time.

Same

Let me breathe the same breath as the chickadee,walk the same path as the deer,feel the sun, the rain—and smilebecause I’m home.

Scarlet pimpernel

TodayI sawa pictureofa scarlet pimpernelflowerand I criedbecause—how can anyonelook at a pictureofa scarlet pimpernelflowerand not lovethis worldand everythingin it?

Forgot

We forgot we were homeso went lookingin other places.

Every part

When everything is already hereand every part is part of every thing,we tread quietly and plant, lovingly,in the whole soil of the kind world.

Beech bud

Late-day sunglows on theJanuary beech budin this sacred groveof promise.

The wild part of me

The wild part of me is alsothe soft part of me.There are no claws, no teeth, no blood.Instead, an opening, a melting, a loving.A letting in and a giving out.

Run away to home

There are days when I wantto run away to home—to that place that is right,where the ground smells like comfortand the trees wave hello. There are dayswhen I rememberand so—gladly—I come home,I am home,I am.