Ripples of time
are moving me
closer, closer
to the edge where
mystery abounds.
Aging
Category Archives: poetry
A Snowy Morning
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.
Autumn Morning
On a perfect autumn morning
when the air is clean and crisp,
mist slowly moves toward the light,
blurring the mirror image of trees
glimpsed on the surface of the pond.
The Hawk’s Cry
Subscribe to continue reading
Subscribe to get access to the rest of this post and other subscriber-only content.
A Tender Moment
For the first time ever,
he asked her to play
just for him. She began
with Chopin. Stretched
out on the sofa, he
listened to the music.
As her fingers danced
on the keys, fluid and
efficient, gentle and
powerful, tears began
to flow down his cheeks.
That beautiful moment,
when a grandmother
evoked such vulnerability
in her 30+ grandson, that
moment suffused with
exquisite tenderness and
joy, must be held tightly,
an antidote to a world
where violence and meanness
has become the norm.
(This is for my friend Carol, an accomplished pianist and wonderful woman, wife, counselor, friend, mother, grandmother, and great grandmother.)
Dandelions in the Median Strip
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.
Ahimsa
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?
Choosing a Path
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.
Hope
Full moon rises behind
bare limbs soon to be
full of new buds, spreads
some light in a dark night.
Surviving Chaos
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.
untangling the web 