A blue jay brings a vivid flash of color to
the reedy branches of a naked bush
beside the pond. Songs of a
robin sweeten the air and
a mallard couple, he with
his emerald green head
and yellow beak, swim
from the shore barely
missing four geese who
peacefully approach. The
heads of the mallard couple
begin to pulse up and down to
their own tempo. Hissing brakes
of a school bus assault the peace
and Luna swishes her way amidst the
pine needles and I wonder what she senses.
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.
On this morning’s walk with
Luna, I see the running
cedar scampering through
the woods and stop and
pull up one strand and
then another until my
hands are full, reminding
me of the search for it
and mistletoe so many
years ago. I put it in a tub
of water to soak when
I get home and add some
holly and boxwood, and
thoughts of how to use
them float through my mind.
Now as I lie here I wonder
if I will use them with the
creche or on the mantelpiece
or maybe on the railing.
Will there be enough?
Will I have the energy?
I really don’t know, but you
know what? It’s okay
if I don’t; I just enjoyed
finding and gathering it.
On a perfect fall day like today,
horror over an unprovoked attack
on a politician’s spouse
fueled by irresponsible political
rhetoric fills me with a palpable fear
over what the future holds
for my children and grandchildren.
As I hear the hum of lawnmowers
in the distance, the response to
the violent rhetoric by some leaves me
with my mouth wide open. A governor,
my governor, makes a stupid,
provoking statement and reckless
television hosts continue to repeat
lies so often that they become
“truths” to their hungry listeners.
The visceral fear and anger
thrums through my body,
gets louder and louder as
a former president whips
up his followers and encourages
more violence if he does not
get his way. I ask you, if a child calls
people ugly names, makes up
and spreads lies and excuses,
and bullies others to do the same
what would you do? What would you do?
(formerly my 70+ group!)
At 80 the body is
more fragile, and
we have organ
recitals when we
gather, but we still
gather. The recent
deaths of siblings
and friends, a small
stroke, and a bout
of vertigo have
made some of us feel
more vulnerable, yet
some are feeling
happier than they
ever have, and
we still gather.
This circle of women
has been through
rough patches and
we are all weathering,
but we still gather.
We have learned
to adapt to changes,
internal and external,
mostly with grace
and appreciation,
(but not always!),
yet we still gather.
Each of us is
searching for a
path to acceptance,
beauty, and joy in
the years that remain,
and as we gather we
reveal and share
what really matters,
learn from each other,
laugh and cry,
and feel the pure
joy that radiates
from being a member
of a circle of women.
Until life’s end,
whether in person
or via zoom, whether
in nursing homes,
retirement communities,
or our own homes,
may we continue to gather.
On a muggy, head-achy morning
We were graced by a heron
With its presence two times.
First in the air from the side
Of the dock with a great
swoosh of wings and air.
And later across the pond,
Still like a slender sculpture,
Until it sensed something
Wrong and turned its head
To and fro and then took off.
We were sorry to disturb its
Peace but grateful for its gift.
After the sun burns
through the clouds
and wipes away
a rainy morning,
we venture out
with others eager
to enjoy clear weather
while it graces us
with its presence.
On a walk I see
delicate patterns
in the sand made
by seaweed and shells
as they are dragged
to and away from
the water’s edge,
sea oats gently
waving on the dunes,
pelicans lazing on
a pier, and curling
waves tipped
with white foam.
There is nothing
else I need in this moment.
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?
untangling the web 