Upon reflection…

Just as the state of the water 

Controls the accuracy of the reflections, 

The state of our minds controls 

 The accuracy of our reflections.

 It is therefore wise 

 Not to make important decisions 

 While feeling troubled and disturbed, 

But from a calm and serene perspective…

Blending opposites

I love the way our ancient willow 

Frames our new little cherry tree 

As she boldly greets the spring. 

New and old, dark and light, 

Sturdy and delicate, pink and green — 

The blend of opposites is so inviting.

Limitations help us grow

What if we came to understand 

That our limitations and imperfections 

 And the obstacles we encounter 

Will actually be the making of us; 

That as we strive to overcome; 

To improve, to learn, and to outgrow 

Whatever holds us back, 

We are, in turn, becoming 

Who we were born to be 

And inspiring those around us 

To do the same?

When light spills in

In your darkest moments, 

May light and color spill in, 

However briefly, 

And illuminate once again 

All that is good, and true, 

 And beautiful in your life.

Joy in diversity

Look how joyful the colors are! 

How can we not see 

The pleasure diversity brings?

The power of light

Such is the power of light, 

That it can endow an old folding chair 

With an aura of beauty and mystery. 

How, then, can we justify 

Refraining from sharing 

The light each of us carries within us?

On the bright side

I’m trying hard to rise above 

 The concerns of the day 

But it’s a challenge, 

To keep looking on the bright side 

When the dark in both 

The foreground and the distance 

Looms so large..

A splendor of belonging

Though each of these differs from the others, 

They are all trees, and co-exist 

In a glorious splendor of belonging. 

Why is it that we find ourselves unable 

To find the same unity in diversity?

Projection

So often the faults we accuse in others 

Are projections from failings 

We ignore in ourselves, 

And the efforts we spend excluding others 

Might be better invested in healing 

 What is broken in ourselves…

Spring moss

The moss on the trees this time of year 

Is pure enchantment; 

Alluring, yet somehow sinister, 

It seems to demand I grab my camera 

Even as it reaches for my throat…

When beauty mattered

It can prove humbling, to live in a place 

That’s been around a long time; 

And to see the care folks used to take 

To build beauty into everything,

 Even a garage. 

The paint may peel, 

The weeds may grow, 

The roof may leak over time, 

But the original intent is still visible…

Time to reground

There will always be days 

When we feel like we’ve hit a dead end: 

When there seems to be no way to move forward, 

And all the gifts, 

The energy and joy that carried us here 

Have rusted out and died. 

What can we do to turn those feelings round? 

Perhaps it’s time to step away 

 From that which brought us to this point 

And ground ourselves once more 

In the simple pleasures of grass, and trees, and sky…

Dark beauty

The beauty of a cloudy day: 

The way the colors sing against the dark… 

When will we come to understand 

Each transitory moment has its value, 

If only we make time 

To appreciate the possibilities?

Seek joy!

Where is it that you find joy? 

At home? In the garden? 

In the mountains? By the sea? 

In your studio, or at work? 

Wherever it may be, 

I hope you find a taste of delight 

In your day.🙂

Inextinguishable

The sun still shines through, 

Despite the heavy blanket of clouds, 

Bringing light and color into a world 

Overwhelmed by darkness. 

We, too, can be the light, 

And will continue glowing, 

Inextinguishable.

Hanging their heads

So much beauty, yet still they hang their heads, 

Clustering together, seeking invisibility 

 As if they have imposter syndrome, 

Or have been so beaten down by wind and rain 

They can no longer lift their heads to the sun…

Watching and Hoping

As the eagle watches the water 

 For signs of fish, 

We watch the news for signs of hope, 

Eager to grasp some tasty nugget 

That might assuage our soul’s hunger 

For righteousness and peace…

Gardening as an act of trust

Gardening is such an act of faith: 

To stuff brown bulbs into bare ground 

When all the leaves have fallen 

 And trust that flowers will emerge 

Once winter’s snows have melted,

 Is amazing: not only to plan so far ahead, 

But to know that the flowers will return each spring 

 And also multiply!;

Opposites

We are so quick to divide life into opposites — 

Good, bad; right, wrong; 

High, low; black, white; 

 Rough, smooth; wet or dry — 

When will we learn to see life as a möbius strip, 

 Where each fades into the other, all shades of gray, Tempered by heart, experience, and time?

The potential for rebirth

Nature has a way of reminding us 

That new life can spring 

 From death and loss; 

That, tossed upon the shores 

Of heartache and devastation, 

We still bear within us 

The potential for rebirth.

A light in the darkness

This was the blood moon, 

Taken last week, 

Earlier in the evening, 

Before it eclipsed and turned red 

(And was shielded from view by clouds). 

I post it now to remind myself 

There will always be light in the darkness, 

Even when we can’t see it. 

Even when the darkness 

Feels total, endless, and irredeemable, 

It’s still there, and at some point 

We’ll see it again.

Devotion

And if the question were to be asked, 

“To what are you devoted?” 

What might be your response? 

There are so many possibilities: 

Some start with the word “my” — 

My family, my health, my garden or my art — 

Or other, broader, “my’s” — 

My church, my faith, my party, 

 My community, or my country— 

 While others start outside ourselves: 

To beauty, truth, compassion, peace, 

And then the question must become, 

“What form does that devotion take?” 

What does it mean to treasure or to care for?

Protect the young

How can we not feel protective of our young? 

That innocent gaze is irresistible.

Morning fog

With foghorns mourning 

 In the gray and emptied distance, 

My eye turns away from the shoreline 

To the garden I tend to ignore 

And I celebrate the simple charm 

 Of plants that choose to bloom 

Without my interference, 

When so much else in my world cries out 

For thoughtful intervention …

Promise of hope

The moon shines orange 

Through the grasping, chaotic branches; 

A promise of hope and light 

Once we struggle past 

 This dark corner of our lives.

Be your best self

See how this tree leans, 

Yet still produces blossoms 

That ignite the neighborhood? 

We don’t have to be perfect; 

We can still make a difference 

By just being the best we can be.

Reminiscing…

Somehow this picture captures 

The idyllic family vacations of my childhood - 

Not that we ever had one like this: 

We went to beaches, not lakes or ponds, 

And my mom never cooked outside. 

But it was just the three of us, 

And there was that sense of joy, 

And there was faith, 

And regular church attendance, 

And a sense of quiet peace — you know, 

“God’s in his heaven, 

All’s right with the world.”

Alight with love

Let each of us be alight with love 

To guide others safely home.

From a distance

Like our cat, who prefers to view the world 

From the highest possible perch, 

The eagles like to scan the shore 

 From the top of our tallest tree— 

A model of behavior often advocated 

By my organizational behavior instructors. 

“Go to the balcony,” they used to say, 

And “Don’t get stuck in the weeds,” 

For, as Bette Midler used to sing,

 “From a distance, we are instruments, 

Marching in a common band,

 Playing songs of hope, 

Playing songs of peace, 

The songs of every man.”

Time’s distance

It’s a truism, of course, 

That distance makes things seem smaller: 

Here’s proof — did you even notice 

Mount Baker in the distance, 

The lone seagull amid the cormorants 

On the dock? 

Time’s distance works in similar ways: 

Not only grief and pain, but also joy;

 In fact all memories may fade, 

Though never disappear, 

Lost only to those not present 

For the actual experience. 

The stories may remain, 

 But impact lessens over time 

Until we seem to have no choice 

But to repeat ancient mistakes.