Ripples of time
are moving me
closer, closer
to the edge where
mystery abounds.
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.
When hatred and retribution
are the order of the day,
out front my lilies bloom
in red, orange, yellow, and peach.

When university presidents are
pushed out for what they believe,
my dog’s fur remains soft
and her ears ever so silky.

When people yearning for
a better life are arrested,
my air conditioner keeps us
cool on a 100+ degree day.

While people are dying in
Gaza, Iran, Israel, and Ukraine,
I see turtles sunning themselves
at the edge of the pond.

When past presidents
are called “stupid,”
children are laughing and
playing around the world.

When vaccines are deemed
unnecessary and harmful,
doctors and nurses continue
to speak up for their efficacy.

When sycophants bow down
to a bully of a leader,
People peacefully protest
at “No Kings” rallies.

At this distressing time
in our history, we must
hold on to hope and beauty,
and speak truth to power.

Tucked between mother
and father, five little goslings
slid in the pond and paddled
away in one clump of feathers.
Serene on the surface,
frantic underneath at our
approach though we meant
no harm. Even so, the parents,
in this scary world, deduced
precautions were necessary
to ensure their offspring
were safe. Is this not what all
sentient beings want?
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.
Full moon rises behind
bare limbs soon to be
full of new buds, spreads
some light in a dark night.
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.
by BHW 2 Comments
Some say it never happened
or that it was a peaceful
event led by patriots or
that it is right to remove
all charges. If they watched
live coverage of that day,
how can they possibly
believe all the lies? An
alternate reality in which
the villains are now heroes
and the heroes villains
circulates among those
who refuse to see the truth.
Brave heroes who dared
to investigate that day
are now maligned by
our next president who
refused to be part of
our country’s peaceful
transition of power.
We will soon witness the
dignity with which our
current president passes
the power to him. May
he use that power wisely
and fairly. A worried
world will be watching
and we must all be vigilant
and peacefully protest
what we think is illegal,
immoral, or inhumane.
Compassion and love will
win over fear and hate.

The grass crunches on
this cold winter morning
and frost twinkles on
every blade. The sun
reflects off a thin layer
of ice on the pond and
two crows in cacophony
at the top of a tree
discuss the morning news.
Shell-like white fungi
decorates a fallen branch,
soft moss covers the roots
of a tree, and fiddlehead fern
pokes through brown leaves.
Suddenly there is a flash
of red as a pileated
woodpecker darts from
one tree to another.
Tell me, how can one’s
heart not lift with this
lushness? Tell me, what
will you do to save this
for those not yet born?