The weight of care

As we chug along this lonely sea,

 Tugging our past and cares behind us, 

May we be as conscious 

 Of the beauty that surrounds us 

As we are of the weight of our burdens…

Daisy season

It’s daisy season here, and everywhere we look, 

The fields are dusted with white, 

As if to remind us: winter will return — 

Enjoy the sun!

Crimson promise

After days of rain, a rainbow, 

Posted right at sunset, 

Glowing red in the reflections, 

Enfolding our neighbor’s farm 

In a crimson embrace of light. 

Breathe deep, and breathe again; breathe in 

The eternal promise: it will be okay, 

And you are loved.

The sky’s embrace

As we make our lonely way 

Across the sea of change, 

Take comfort from the beauty 

Of the endlessly evolving sea and sky — 

Never the same from one minute to the next, 

And yet consistent in their embrace 

Of the earth around us.

Let it go

There’s something reassuring about 

About a garden that responds to neglect 

With such exuberance: 

It serves as a gentle reminder 

 That I don’t always have to be in control 

For things to turn out well…

Golden afternoon

Waves of gold, 

Crashing across the verdant shore — 

A soothing Sunday sight!

Open to reflection

It’s easy to feel small and vulnerable 

When there are huge clouds looming over us, 

But they can feel less threatening 

 If we open ourselves up to reflection.

Fawns frolic

I love this time of year, 

When the rhodies bloom, 

The lavender fills the air with purple scents, 

The figs begin to green and swell, 

And the fawns come frolic in our yard…

Fierce abundance

Instead of looking west at sunset, 

Try looking east, 

Away from all the drama that’s predictable, 

To the subtle possibilities inherent 

In a life that isn’t lived center stage, 

But quietly enjoyed, even — however briefly —

 Radiant, with the fierce abundance of love.

Don’t give up hope

Rain fell all day, 

Tears streaking down the windows, 

And at sunset the reality sets in: 

This may be my life today, 

Yet still, the sun is shining through the clouds. 

Tomorrow may be different 

 Or more of the same, but still 

The sun will be there, shining behind the clouds: 

Don’t give up hope.

Choices

At some point we will be forced to realize 

Severe decrepitude has set in, 

And nothing short of major renovation 

Will enable this old barn to continue. 

And then the choice arises: 

Do we shore it up, take it down and replace,

Or let it slowly sink to the ground? 

What opportunities arise, and what is lost 

With each of our available options? 

And what do the choices we make 

Say about who we are?

The coming storm

You might not want to get so busy 

Taking care of your own needs 

That you miss all the signs of the coming storm; 

The one that will affect us all…

The eternal invitation

The invitation is always there, 

To deepen; to step into the Oneness; 

To leave behind the cares and opinions, 

And enter once again into relationship 

With That Which Feeds Your Soul.

Beauty everywhere

One of the many things I love 

About riding on ferries 

Is the opportunities created by reflections 

To indulge my love of abstract photography — 

Yet another gentle reminder: 

There’s beauty everywhere — 

You only have to open your eyes to it.

Friendship

Friendship is such a blessing: 

Tied side by side 

To a wealth of shared interests and experiences; 

Separate but similar 

(And growing more so with age) 

Both free to leave or stay but choosing now 

To spend this time together, 

Floating, yet not adrift, 

Supported and uplifted 

By the calm seas of affection.

Healing green

In a world beset by troubles beyond imagining, 

We turn to — and need — 

The cool greenness of nature 

To restore our souls.

Committing to excellence

I love to imagine how proud 

 The architects, builders, and owners 

Of buildings like this must have felt 

To have created something so intricate, 

So beautifully proportioned and appealing. 

What might you or I create today 

That so exquisitely portrays 

Our commitment to excellence?

Idyllic places

The rural lifestyle seems idyllic 

But has its challenges nonetheless:

 The tranquil beauty of this scene 

May well be balanced by 

The lengthy distance to a store— 

Or from a hospital or fire station, 

 Family and friends — 

Suburban life, for all it’s mocked, 

Is a valiant attempt to compromise 

 Between the convenience of the city 

And the beauty of the countryside 

While teaching us to get along with neighbors.

Determination

Apparently there’s no limit 

To how high some creatures will climb 

To get what the seem to think they need…

Mothering

Mothering 

— Both my own and others’ children— 

Has been such a gift: 

For me, at least, it has been a means of centering; Keeping me grounded and my outlook open 

To the many other ways there are 

Of being in the world; attempting to be 

Alert to the needs of others, always evolving, 

While at the same time being forced to find 

 The inner strength and calm 

To be a helpful resource 

Without losing myself in the process. 

Today we who are all children celebrate 

All those who took the time over the years 

To nurture someone other than themselves.

Showered with grace

So many people, 

Gifted with the experience of a lifetime; 

So many cameras taking so many pictures; 

So many squeals of delight…

 A delicious showering of grace, 

Uniting us all in joy…

Fuzzy love

Growing up in Ohio, 

We were told if we got lost in the forest 

To look for the moss on the trees, 

Which always grows on the north side, 

But that’s of no help here, in the northwest: 

The moss, this time of year at least, 

Surrounds the tree trunks 

Embracing them with sunlit, green, and fuzzy 

 Love.

Inconsistency

After a week spent making tiny paintings,

 It was both pure joy and challenging 

To return to a larger canvas. 

Some part of me worries 

At the difference in the style that appears 

 In the small space versus the large, 

While another voice is remembering 

 Emerson’s foolish consistency, 

“The hobgoblin of little minds.”

Watching the sun set

Come, sit with me beneath the trees, 

And we will watch the sky together, 

Deepening into night; 

The sun, beaming, as it dives into the waves; 

The clouds’ farewell rosy blush 

 As they slide beneath the purple comforter 

Of darkness.

In the first blush of evening

Some evenings are too beautiful 

 For words to capture…

A new perspective

It never hurts to try 

To gain a new and broader perspective, 

But it may make going back 

 To the way things were 

More challenging… 

That old song comes to mind: 

🎶How you gonna keep ‘em 

Down on the farm 

When they’ve seen gay Paree?🎶

Each an island

What if, instead of writing, “No man is an island,” 

Donne had written “Each man is an island,” 

Would we have then more fully understood 

That our disconnection, each from each, 

Is merely an illusion; 

 That beneath what seems to separate us 

We’re inextricably linked by our common ground?

False suns

Like the flowers,

We humans crave the light 

And lift our faces to whatever sun we find, 

Which, like the sun, might offer grace or harm. 

Might be the spotlight that we crave, 

That need to be the center of attention, 

Or simply being in the presence of celebrity; 

Might be the thrill of belonging to a group, 

Or the furied drive to make it on our own; 

Might be the ecstasy that comes with addiction, 

Or the pride we take in flaunting our abstinence- 

So many temptations to follow lesser suns, 

But only one will ever truly make us bloom…

The majesty of everything

Though I grew up being told 

Not to be the poor deluded soul 

Who “couldn’t see the forest for the trees,” 

I also believe it’s easy to get so distracted 

By the majesty of the trees 

That you might miss the astounding beauty 

Of the tiny flowers 

 That dot the ground beneath them. 

How can we become more conscious 

 Of the value of both ways of seeing, 

And more attuned to the full range 

 Of what’s going on around us?

An hour of joy

From 8:01 to 8:56, 

 An incredible parade of beauty. 

How blessed are we, 

 To be offered this hour of joy?

Now and when

We always have that choice: 

To appreciate and cultivate 

 The bright greenness of what’s here, and now — 

Or to fixate on our worries 

 About the thunderclouds in the distance: 

Which will you choose today?