Category: Grandmother

ALL Saints

Fallen leaves carpet my path.
Caution, sharp curves ahead.
Tree limbs lock bare arms;
Distant ridges rise in view.
Blessed be the pause.

Placing my hands on
Sun-warmed outcropping,
I take in the strength  
Of ancient mountains 
Eroded over time. 
Blessed be the wise.

At the peak of an arduous climb
I lean against the rugged bark 
of an old growth tree, its
knotted wounds long healed.
Blessed be time.

Standing under an arch 
of Coniferous Evergreens,
I sight the late-blooming ferns,
Signs, promises, Presence. 
Winds shush the moment,
Blessed be peace.

Mind Clutter

Unspoken thoughts
Cloud my mind,
Not the Hosanna
Glory-be-to-God kind
of words that make
my heart sing -
burdenson words,
fear, failure, if only
or need to.
I hold shadows
up to the light,
and recall the way
I wish it had been,
the pain of impossible 
past or unlived future.
I do not store up
hurt of anger,
but the times 
I “should have”
collect like stones.
When the weight
becomes burdensome
I breathe deep,
stretch my taut body,
murmur a mantra,
note what waves
creation stirs-
bird song, 
dance of trees,
flowering flashes of color,
reminders of  
 divine presence.
I scatter my thoughts
with paper and pen,
and then give thanks.



Enlighten the Way

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.

After the Melt

Plowed snow boulders along curbside,

Industrious squirrels in hunting gear

Cranky crows, afternoon squabbles

Scattered limbs, crushed acorns and walnut shells,

Two skinny snow figures, standing sentinels;

Under the dogwood, brave daffodils emerge,

green fingers holding tightly wrapped buds.

A slight wind stirs up conversation, twittering

maple twigs and crackling white oak leaves.

Nature welcomes winter’s unhurried pace

While celebrating signs of transformation..

All is Calm. All is Right.

In my now time

The leaves fall

One by one,

The autumn dance

 is nearly done.

A single yellow bloom,

In the leaf-buried garden

Gives an Unexpected showing,

Ignites an Unanticipated Joy,

 

Reminder of an unseen force,

A nurturing presence, while trees

settle for winter and roots ready

to stir up new life

Can you feel it?

All is Calm. All is Right.

Now that is a world

To dream about,

Imagine a time when

the power of peace rules.

Truth is the norm,

Justice takes root.

We enter into yet another winter.

Hopes burdened with the past,

While love bears the promise,

the possibility of a new spring.

Daisy in November

Lesson from the Coneflower

In the August reach of summer
the coneflower is content
To be, bearing witness
to earth joys, inviting bees and
butterflies to feast on sweet
vanilla scented nectar.
Breeze stirs, flower sways,
neither sweats nor toils.

To be, just to be for
a short while sitting
with the coneflowers,
bathed in the spirit of delight.
Breathe in gratitude,
Breathe out contentment.

Just To Be

Pooling Words

Inside the entrance of a museum in Boston is a fountain and the waters rising up carry words. Words begin to form phrases. Phrases swept with light across the floor rise up on the walls as passages of wisdom.

Never before or after have I witnessed such an impressionable image of words coming to life.

I savor words and phrases,
Truth seeking wisdom,
Sources of life, love,
courage, union;
Words that enlighten,
refreshing my desire
for understanding
and my purpose
to live fully, wholly.

Holy, prophet, word-bearer
casting words like seeds;
trusting grace and nature
will find the proper opening
where they may take root.

Here – catch
Love transforms;
Justice sustains;
Oppression destroys;
Grace restores;
Choose courage.

We can make a better word;
We know what that looks like.

Reflecting

Not a Wilderness

Weeks, months pass
with no words to post.
“How about that!”
These have not been
wilderness months.
I connect, create,
explore, expand,
understand, appreciate;
mourn the losses,
cheer the resilient,
advocate for equity.
Splendors appear
outside my windows
postcard ponderings
arrive in the mailbox,
teabags  tucked into
note cards from friends;.
Mandala meditations,
dulcimer duets,
long walks with my
rescue-in-training
Then a March stirring,
flow of words appearing
on red tips of maples.
Yes, how about that!

A Pandemic Year in Haiku

My Glory Be Year
Dissipated in Dis-ease
Gathered up in Love

Being home alone
A solitude that settles
Like a day of grace.

Virus imperils
Body with deep aches and pains
Slow recovery

Sadness marks our days
Counting those lives lost, failed dreams,
Life won’t be the same.

Sun, rain, summer days
Long walks detouring around
Changing horizon

In March sycamores
leafed green, today a golden
arch marks time and change.

Anticipating
Fall, harvest traditions masked
With disappointment

Holding together
In our trials and triumphs
We are not alone.

Mercy, gratitude
Good things zoom into close view,
Feasts for Diversion

Inspired by Brian Bilston FB “Year to Date”