Emerging tightly coiled,
fiddlehead fern gently
responds to the light of
the sun whose warmth
beckons it to unfurl
and release to the world.
(photos taken in woods behind my house)
Opening to Life
Category Archives: poetry
Surprises
In the dead of winter no one would
suspect that out of an old tree trunk
smothered with vines, a branch
of new beauty would emerge.
Pay attention to those of us now
covered with spots and wrinkles.
Perhaps we too have something
worth noticing, something that
may amaze and delight you!
A Day of Hope and Peace
I look up into the
clear blue sky when
I hear the sharp cry
of the Cooper’s hawk,
stopping to feel the
warmth of the sun
on my face after so
much cold, so much ice
that I almost forgot
how delightful a day
over 30 can be when
the grass is beginning
to peek through the
patches of snow and
the road is clear for
walking and spirits
are lifting and the
monks have finished
their journey through
ice and snow and cold
and have brought
hope and joy to the
entire world. May all
be like them and vow
to make each day
a peaceful one.
(Photo is AI generated)
A Winter Day
sun
helps
pond
show
off
new
coat
of
ice
Aging
Ripples of time
are moving me
closer, closer
to the edge where
mystery abounds.
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
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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.
untangling the web 