Three dogs met in Deep Run Park. They
wagged their tails, sniffed,
and kissed. One was
brown and white, one
black, and one brown. One was big and
one medium,
one was small. No
exclusion here.
What if, like those dogs, humans saw
other humans,
not color, race,
only humans?
I look up into the
clear blue sky when
I hear the sharp cry
of the Cooper’s hawk,
stopping to feel the
warmth of the sun
on my face after so
much cold, so much ice
that I almost forgot
how delightful a day
over 30 can be when
the grass is beginning
to peek through the
patches of snow and
the road is clear for
walking and spirits
are lifting and the
monks have finished
their journey through
ice and snow and cold
and have brought
hope and joy to the
entire world. May all
be like them and vow
to make each day
a peaceful one.
(Photo is AI generated)
sun
helps
pond
show
off
new
coat
of
ice
There’s a stillness in the air
in anticipation of something
big to come. The birds are quiet,
the pond serene. A thin layer
of ice is creeping across the
surface of the water and Mr.
and Mrs. Mallard are swimming
to the far bank where the
heron hangs out, seeking a
safe place to settle. Luna
and I are enjoying our walk
knowing we may be housebound
tomorrow if the BIG Storm comes.
icy
hamlet
close to
pond’s edge
and pine
needles
scattered
into
distinct
patterns
Ripples of time
are moving me
closer, closer
to the edge where
mystery abounds.
May cold hearts
begin to melt
like thin ice
on a pond.
Then all shall
be well, all
shall be well.
Up at dawn, ski pants, snow
boots, mittens and warmest
coat found and pulled on
and a vest for Miss Luna.
We are the first to venture
out into the world of white.
And when we stop, the
total stillness, the silence
is there, always there.
Luna off leash prances
ahead, often looking back
to ensure I am still there.
I take baby steps to cross
the wooden bridge over
the creek listening to the
crunch of my boots. I see
bare branches transformed
into works of art. A gaggle
of geese is huddled on the
shore and mirrored on
the pond making two
rows until our presence
causes them to waddle
into the water and swim
away. Our prints in the
pristine snow take me
back to childhood when
my brother and I rushed
to be the first out, laughing
as we lay down in the snow
to make our snow angels.
Today I intentionally halt,
and it’s the silence, the hush,
the utter stillness, the beauty,
the sense of something more
that fills me with gratitude and joy.
Pausing in the woods
to ruminate about
what aromas to sniff
next in this Thanksgiving
bounty whose scents
are hidden in the leaves
and provided by Mother
Nature’s other creatures.
Little mouths munching
away on a fallen tree
whose demise is offering
more light in the forest.
Fungi and other organisms
are helping it decompose,
releasing its nutrients
into the fertile soil.
It will take decades
before it’s nibbled away,
long after I have been
released to the earth.
The crunch of leaves,
the face in the tree trunk,
(Zachary Hand to God?)
the whine of cars on Route 6,
the hum of a plane overhead,
the blazing maple framed
by a vibrant, clear, blue sky,
the bare tree limbs stretching,
the purple beautyberry
against a woody stem, and
the dog and the pond
all create a perfect day.
untangling the web 