by BHW 4 Comments
Walk in silence and with each step,
breathe in, breathe out.
Feel the weight shift.
Listen, smell, touch.
Soft moss, hidden pond, gentle breeze,
orange mushroom and
ruffled lichen,
a hidden bench.
Trust that your flame will find the way.
Cease grasping and
absorb silence,
compassion, peace.
Best antidote for feeling low:
go outside and
see what Mother
Nature has on
her menu at this moment, seen
and unseen. A
full palette of
greens, tender breeze,
shadows snaking up knotted trunks,
clouds drifting by,
earth’s fecund scent,
there just for you.
by BHW 2 Comments
Washed clean of dust and pollen in
a summer’s rain,
lilies smile and
clematis stretch
while grass revels in its freshness
and shy gumpos
start to expose
white, pink blossoms.
Inside, I thirst to partake of
this clean earth, so
out I go and
lift face to sky.
Backlit by rising sun, bare trees,
branches stretching,
reach to the sky
while I question
what to do when opinions based
on ignorance
appear, often
boxed up and tied
with a bow by politicians
hoping to fool
those immersed in
indifference.
This poem was inspired by two events: hearing about a teenager who gave up indifference for Lent and hearing a friend’s important dream.
Right now in this moment, only
this moment, an
onslaught of male
tree frogs pierce the
silence with hum of mating calls.
Far off geese sound
their harsh call, and
Luna’s collar
tinkles as traffic murmurs and
green grass stretches
to welcome the
sun at long last.
To witness wonder in action,
watch a puppy
in her first snow.
Nose to the ground,
in yoga’s perfect downward dog,
she sniffs and snorts,
then dances in
circles as she
tosses this mysterious thing.
No thought of the
future, only
this moment, now.
by BHW 3 Comments
I want to live on wonder’s edge,
to shut out the
jackhammer of
old stories and
fears and blames and everything
that limits me,
feeds my ego,
to be present,
to cast aside old habits, and
in their place,
silence, stillness
to invite grace.
With gratitude to Kathleen Dowling Singh for her presentation on “The Grace in Aging” at St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church, January 24, 2015
Sun low in the Western sky, a
single bird with
cheerful song flies
over our heads.
Through the freeze-fried grass to pond’s edge,
footsteps crunching.
Luna, ever
the explorer,
sniffs and paws at each new smell, sight,
always present,
a reminder
for her mistress.
Early morning. Stacked, blue-grey clouds
drifting above,
backlit by sun,
moving slowly.
12 geese with raucous cries fly in
formation, with
one drifter far
behind, soaring
to his own fluttering music,
apart but close.
Who can’t be filled
with gratitude?
Twas just as a Christmas pageant
should be, baby
Jesus cried and
shepherds yawned. The
first wiseman could not be heard and
the second’s voice
so sweet and clear,
the third off key.
Baby angels wandering while
proud parents and
grandparents swelled
with pride and joy.
untangling the web