Echoes of the Divine

I am not, strictly speaking, a boater, 

 (Though I must confess:

 I was married in a canoe)

 But I have always been drawn to the edges 

Where boats and water meet; 

To the wavering reflections, gentle curves, 

And the rich simplicity and depth 

Of favorite colors: shades of blue, 

Made more vibrant by light and shadow 

And the golden glow of wood. 

In those colors, I seem to feel an echo 

 Of the richness and the depth 

At the center of my heart; 

That divine spark seeded there that ignites 

 Joy, love, and creativity.

Shadows on the path

Even though — and, of course, because — 

We’re walking in the light, 

There will be shadows across the path. 

Don’t fear the dark, but see it as restful shade: 

On opportunity to slow down 

And catch your breath 

Before you renew your climb 

 To your next adventure.

Potential for joy

From the garden comes this reassuring message: 

Whenever something’s dying, 

Something new is being born: 

Don’t let your grief obscure 

Your awareness of the future’s potential for joy.

From acceptance to appreciation

Like the sunsets, infinitely varied 

Thanks to the weather, 

And the clouds on which the light comes to rest, 

We carry out the same tasks and motions 

Day to day and week to week, 

 Yet each remains unique, 

Offering its own challenges and blessings.

 In moving from acceptance to appreciation 

 We might discover joy.

Reverence for life

The tenderness we feel for the young; 

The urge to protect their innocence 

 Seems universal. When and why 

Do we lose that reverence for life?

Not asked or imagined

Sometimes nature — without any help 

From those of us who dream of controlling it — 

Gives us gifts we could never have imagined. 

The response? Overwhelming gratitude!

Right here, right now

I love this morning view 

From my bathroom window —

 It feels like I’m in Tuscany: 

Bringing back travel memories 

 Without ever having to leave home! 

Have I always been such a homebody? 

Or is this just a reaction 

To the isolation of the pandemic? 

Or is it simply that I’ve learned to love 

Where I am, right here; right now?