Like ballerinas in a gentle breeze,
light green tendrils moving,
curving, swooping, dipping,
at one with the Universe,
with all matter and all beings,
part of the sacred circle of
starting at the end and
ending at the beginning,
filling my heart with hope,
rejoicing instead of weeping.
Photo by David Veksler on Unsplash
The earth was hushed
that morning and a light
snow was falling, uniting
ground and sky, the still
and the moving, brown and
white. Pine needles on the
path were covered by snow
highlighting an intricate
design like a fisherman’s net
or spider’s web, an encounter
between life and death.
The cosmos was showing off
its artistry in twisted bare
branches, in an ethereal
light on a skim of ice, in
things seldom observed.
Nature was sparking the
imagination with the
magnificence of creation
with no intention other
than to simply enchant.
Surprised by you this morning
as you nestled among the brown
leaves and pine needles,
I was delighted by your
tans and greens decorating
a broken branch on the path.
Even in winter there is color
and joy. All you have to do
is keep your eyes open and look.
What makes mist gently
move across the pond or
the pond reflect the clouds?
What makes the sound
of the wind, and why do
pine needles fall to
the ground? What makes
the lavender flowers…these
lavender flowers at my feet
or the white ones beside them?
What makes the blue heron’s
neck so long and why does he
stand so still at our approach?
And what about the algae
on the fallen branch or
the orange mushrooms?
You might say that it
is all explained by science.
But what explains science?
Does anyone really know?
Do we work too hard
to make sense of it all
when perhaps we are
just meant to be amazed?
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.
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.
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.
Before a curve in the path
this morning, I turned
and looked
and saw only beauty.
A good way to
start the day.
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 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.
untangling the web 