Poetry is a natural form of writing for me. For 10 years I wrote a new Wild Thought every Wednesday. They’ve shifted to monthly poems now, but every time I write one, I better remember who I am.
The Play of Light Today it’s the play of light: for an instant, just the tops of trees are touched by morning sun. Churning grey clouds bring into focus the sun-kissed leaves turning green hues to glowing gold. Yesterday it was the breathtaking outline of seed heads– wild…
We are a crafty lot.
And when you need to sigh or cry or fall apart
there are others here to help you pick up the pieces
and begin again. And again.
Until we tilt the circumstances
or die trying.
This beautiful world is worth it.
And you, Earth Warrior, are part of that beauty.
Wild Grief Listen to Chris read “Wild Grief” Start up close and from the back side. Don’t reach for the long view yet. It’s too much to ask of your grieving heart. Look close up, to the silhouette of seed heads on Wild grass. Stand behind a sunflower, on the…
Just as Winter Insists Snow!!! And lots of it! We snow lovers have been waiting with varying degrees of patience…or not. But the skies have opened. Winter finally decided to decorate. She woke from her long slumber and brushed the snow from her den. Flakes came down with steady swirling…
The Truth About Ice Rain. Rain? In Minnesota?!? In winter??!!?? As puddles deepened, the temperature fell. Clumps of slush froze in place. Long stretches of ice now shape the terrain. Even weeks later, a simple walk requires full attention and a little luck. Snow has eluded us, so we look…
The Tapestry of Moments If you live in a part of the world where, looking out your window right now, you see leaves in radiant shades of crimson and saffron, then, by any means necessary, get yourself outside. Look how sunlight or the muted tones of grey make each leaf…
Come to your senses We all have our ways. Things we do, think, say, or feel that help us get present again when we’ve drifted far into the murky waters of worrying about what’s to come or what has been. For me, it’s often tactile— breathing in soft fur working…
When plans change Clouds circled, sluggish with snow, in the April sky. Left in its wake was a white blanket 15 inches deep. It was a marvel, with winds sending flakes sideways –even upward– no telling where they’d land. It snowed for days. And while many grumbled, no one could…
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