Good morning earth
with your
mist rising,
buttercups floating,
cardinals calling,
woodpecker pecking,
streams flowing,
lilies blooming,
echinacea stretching,
hydrangeas budding.
Good morning earth.
Category Archives: musings
Sunday Communion
Under an arch of bare limbs and trunks
was a banquet of Stars of David,
six white petals in each flower
so striking against the green that
I wanted to take them all into
my body like bread and wine.
Such an exquisite gift for a
Sunday afternoon communion.
If Only
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?
A Weekend at Wintergreen
The silence. The stillness.
The solidness
of ancient boulders.
The cold raw air.
Mountain after mountain
like gentle waves
rolling in.
A mind cleared
and a soul stirred.
Oh! The breathtaking
beauty of it all.
May we here today
save it for the
generations to come.
Perspective
Before a curve in the path
this morning, I turned
and looked
and saw only beauty.
A good way to
start the day.
Early Morning
Sun shining on golden leaves,
Frost on the ground,
Four geese flying over,
A frosty bite in the air.
In this moment, in this space,
All is well with the world.
A Wounded Tree
A wounded tree on the bank’s edge
leans precariously,
seems ready to fall.
Slowly it stretches its roots
across the creek
and hugs another tree.
The bridge between the two
seemed impossible at first,
but those two trees
could teach us a thing or two.
Streaming Ribbons of Thoughts
Periwinkle on the side of the road
elicits childhood memories.
Family hikes on Lewis Mountain,
walking like Native Americans,
heel toe, heel toe.
Fairies hidden under rocks
and in the roots of ancient trees.
Mounds of leaves to jump in
and tall bonfires with smoke
winding through the neighborhood,
marshmallows toasting on sticks.
Bicycle rides from the top
of the street to the bottom,
all with no hands, such
a feeling of freedom!
Do We Dare Hope?
Listening, listening is his
key to learning,
said my grandson.
He is just 12.
How do you balance the sins of
the past with the
evolving now?
Forgiveness, he
said. He is only 23.
Young people with
a passion for
social justice
do the hard work in public schools,
synagogues, and
non-profits; mindful
meditation and
compassion classes are expanding.
In this world of
ugly tweets, blame,
do we dare hope?
Inspired by a conversation my son had with his son and by the program at the 25thanniversary of the Chrysalis Institute, now The Center for InnerWork.
Perceptions
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.
