There you were,
wild and free,
tilting your heads
to the sun, swaying
with the breeze in
a sea of yellow,
delighting me each
time I drove by.
Today you are gone.
The blades have
sliced you to the ground.
Some saw you as a weed,
to me you were sheer joy.
What path do you choose today?
Will your actions matter?
Will you choose to immerse
yourself in the news or
do some small act of
kindness? Will you choose
to spend time hating
those in power or
feeling the love of family
and friends? Will you
choose to appreciate
the white dogwoods in
the woods, the blackberry
bushes, and the copper
ajuga blooms, or will you
notice the potholes in the road
and the unpainted fences?
Each day, the path we choose
matters, each and every action,
small or large, matters.
Inspired by Carrie Newcomer’s post Clearing a Path.
On this February day when
chaos seems to be the norm,
I stepped out onto my deck
and was caught unaware by
yellow and purple crocuses
blooming in the raised wooden
box. And then, another gift.
Daffodil shoots by the mailbox.
“To expect the unexpected
shows a thoroughly modern
intellect,” so said Oscar Wilde.
I say “Look for and embrace
surprise if you want to keep
your sanity in this crazy world.
Mist covers the pond
like a giant’s breath
on a cool August morning,
a morning that is a gift
after hot humid days.
And then it effortlessly lifts
to allow the sun its show.
On a hot humid morning,
dragon flies dart around
plants by the lake,
blue wings flashing, and
tree frogs chatter away while
water nibbles at pond’s edge.
New sweet gum leaves
poke up from the roots of an
old tree and bees hum in
a hollow trunk; pine needles
are strewn across the path,
washed in piles by the recent rain.
White button weed hides in the
grass and I almost miss it.
I try to be present, but it’s a challenge.
Remembering how Olivia
planted crocuses around
a tree before an illness
in an old Walton’s episode,
I too planted them, needing
something to look forward
to. It was a warm October
morning a few weeks before
surgery when I knew the
unwelcome visitor in my lung
had to come out and the
road to recovery would be
long. Now here you are
pushing up your green shoots
and opening your blooms.
I am still here and both
of us have made it through
the dark days of winter
and are turning our heads
toward the healing sun.
Image by 🌼Christel🌼 from Pixabay
What would it be like
to start each day with
beginner’s mind? To marvel
at a body that functions
without our control,
that feels and sees
and smells and thinks,
that communicates in a
language developed
centuries before our
births. What would it be
like to see each sunrise
and sunset as a miracle,
each wildflower with
new delight, each
redbud as a wonder, each
bird as a new marvel?
What would it be like
to wipe the mind clean
of all thoughts and opinions,
to see the spark of the
divine in everyone and
everything we meet,
and act from a place
of love? Just imagine
what it would be like
to start each day
with beginner’s mind.
Inspired by the daily meditations of Richard Rohr
Good morning earth
with your
mist rising,
buttercups floating,
cardinals calling,
woodpecker pecking,
streams flowing,
lilies blooming,
echinacea stretching,
hydrangeas budding.
Good morning earth.
Each new green shoot,
each new burst of color,
each new sweet smell,
fills me with gratitude
that, during this time
of quarantine, spring
marches on, putting
on her magnificent show.
Seeming like a blanket of white
flowers, it is
a field of pale
purple splendor,
seen only when I bend down and
look closely. Each
beauty has six
petals around
a yellow center, threadlike
lines splitting each.
So delicate,
so exquisite.
Perhaps if we took the time to
really see those
we pass, we would
glimpse their beauty.
For this I know, there is a light,
an essence, a
center in each
of us, just as
there is a center in each of
those lavender
beauties waiting
to be noticed.
The archetypal pattern lies
deep in your bulb,
waiting beneath
the earth’s surface.
The primordial force pushes
you up through the
layers of soil
as you spiral
skyward, drawn by the sun, fed by
the gentle rain,
unfolding leaves
and soft petals.
untangling the web 