Wild Thoughts

Owl She’s not there all the time. Just enough to keep me looking up. I round the corner at the back of the yard where the tall pines grow, approaching, always, with hushed anticipation. Just in case. Sometimes she’s there roosting on the limb that must be the right combination…

Taking it in   Early snow. So many leaves still in the midst of autumn. From radiant yellows to deep red, russet, and orange really, the leaves were just getting started. Then, big wet flakes drifted down. All day long. Until seven inches blanketed the ground.   Now brightly colored…

Lyrics to Cicada’s Song 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…

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.

Owl Hope 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…

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.

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.