Pull a cap tight over your curls,
step outside and face the day’s
persistent winds.
Pace off pain and weariness;
prepare for an uphill climb.
You will need to pause
where the sidewalk ends;
catch your breath,
Wait. Change of direction.
Turn the corner on doubt;
Follow the perimeter of the first
open field until you arrive
at the walnut grove.
Mary of the Woods awaits.
A lost ball at the foot
of her weathered statue;
rusted wind chimes
fallen from a nearby limb
make no sound.
Praise to you
Chilling Winds,
Gentle Rains,
Seasonal Sigh.
Earth’s scent of
Crushed leaves
Trees preparing
For Time of rest.
Dressy orange,
Shimmering golds,
Red Maples
Making final bows.
Clouds gather,
Sun shuttered
Bare limbs
Stretched in relief.
Two Hawks
Share the watch,
Careful to catch
Whatever moves.
Praise to you
Mountain glories,
Harvest hands,
Nature’s way.
Photo by Terri Cooper
Majestic Tree
stands like sentinel,
carries wisdom of years
Rugged bark
encircles trunk, marks
life’s twist and turns,
Limbs stretch with
welcomed shelter, dreamers
pause, sacred pose.
Maple dressed in reds,
Autumn’s splendor, savors
satisfying sighs.
I see the rubble, scorched earth,
destruction of lands, broken bodies,
heartbreak on faces, despair
in figures burdened with loss.
Anguish opens my heart:
“Why, how, please help.”
Solidarity stirs, Compassion
asks “how will you respond?”
Words burn with desire;
prayer prepares the heart,
empowers actions, sustains hope,
binds us to one another.
God-within-me, God-with-us
plants seeds, ignites fire,
stirs the winds, calms the waters,
shows the way, shares the journey.
Through darkness to light, show me the way.
A squirrel leaves me a walnut
sheathed in green velvet,
then leaps and weaves away
to sort and bury his acorns.
Acrobatic crows hang
on bottom limbs
of kousa dogwoods,
devouring red berries
Just as September returns
sycamores on lakeside avenue
create an arch of golden yellow,
a royal welcome.
Burnished red on dogwoods,
yellow carpets of walnut leaves,
coneflower seeds, drying fuchsia,
wilting lilac tree, caterpillars,
I feel a lift in the cool breeze;
sigh as shadows lengthen;
What return shall I make?
sun slipping
through forest green,
creek sliding
over ancient stones,
cicadas clicking
in mid-afternoon,
tree frogs singing
as day falls
into darkness;
flickering flames
of campfire,
hum of human voices
settling in for the night,
full August moon
moving through treetops..
Silence infuses my soul
without a single word.
Montreat
about this passing moment,
if only I could…
A canopy of green leans in to listen;
cicadas smothered in summer’s heat
keep up soft rhythmic clicks;
raucous crows never cease
proclaiming this their domain,
mockingbirds rasp with protest
when not boasting about their charm.
2:00pm, I sit on my rocking chair
front porch with a cup of green jasmine
tea, a square of chocolate and a good
read, like Shipstead’s “Great Circle”.
Raven makes its circular
flight without a sound
So close, so expansive.
Mid-morning notes,
a treetop preacher
hooked beak, dark robe,
speckled vest calls
“Listen up, Listen up.”
Puffed up virtuoso exhorts:
make the best of the beak
you’ve been given; keep
a close eye on your turf,
skip often, don’t waste time
unless a song bubbles up.
All About Birds CornellLab
Back to Blogging
Things are changing.
Of course they are –
watch the shadows,
the clouds, earth’s bounties.
I greet each sunrise
with a ritual of awareness,
nod of recognition –
another day to spin
on an Axis I trust
will keep me aligned
with good intentions.
I write my history in words,
circumstances, choices.
Grandchildren prompted
the start of this blog.
Sitting in the grass
making daisy chains
we spotted yet another wonder.
They laughed, mocking
my familiar mantra,
“How About That”.
It seems words
can lie fallow, seasons
pass while intentions remain
buried beneath new pursuits.
I pondered and wondered.
jotted words on loose pages
while waiting for new birth.
A new granddaughter
Now ten months,
has favorite colors,
preferred tastes.
reaching out,
so many miracles.
Now “How About That”.
Here I am,
catching up with
all the wonder;
more to come.
Look,
Look again.
Violet emerges
Petals folded
Newborn hatchling
Barely there.
Look,
Look Again.
Delicate wings
Open to reveal
Petals taking
Flight,
Spreading Joy.
How About That 