Dressed in rain gear to deflect burrs
I plunge into the woods that border my yard.
It’s an annual event
trying to remove the burrs from the ground
which is far easier than from the dog.

Burrs might well take over the world
so designed are they for multiplying.
Still, I do my best to quell the growth
hoping for a cool-ish day […]

May the warmth of the sun kiss your skin and nourish your body. May the rains wash clean that which is ready to let go, and wrap you in a garment of undying love.

What we need around these whispered fears is to breathe deeply allow our tender hearts to open to compassion for ourselves, our loved ones, and all beings near and far.

If we do this right—and by that I mean with grace and compassion—perhaps we’ll see ourselves in strangers. Really see ourselves for the global family that we are.

For a poet to be rendered speechless, well,
that takes something out of the ordinary.

Like the Barred Owl who has chosen to roost
on a tall pine in my yard.

I saw the droppings first and the tell-tale pellets
that told me she was—or had been—there.

What if surrendering was the most true and lion-hearted way of being? I know, I know, I hate it too. I shudder as I write these words being no fan of anything that smacks of giving up... or, let’s be honest here, of the sense of not being in control. But some part of me feels the truth of this.