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.
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?
Husband in front,
daughter in middle,
I behind as we walk.
Two dogs stopping
to sniff here and there.
Pines and fir trees
keep watch, lining
the path like sentinels.
Outside noise softened
by pine needles
on the ground.
Pollen everywhere.
A cherry tree
gently drops its
petals like snow
drifting down.
Redbuds and dogwoods
in their Easter finery,
purple clover popping
in the green grass.
Swings that make
music as we pump,
taking us back
to the forgotten
joys of childhood.
Two octogenarians, on a whim,
decided to cut back two hydrangeas,
he with loppers, she with clippers,
on a sunny day hinting of spring.
Ended up cutting back four hydrangeas,
a crepe myrtle without crepe “murder,”
an assortment of ferns and coral bells.
He stood on a chair but did not fall
and she reveled in crocuses moved
last year, blooming hellebores, and
budding Carolina jasmine climbing
the pergola. Afterwards there were
aches and pains, but souls were fed
by new life pushing through the dirt.
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.
Good news mixed with bad today.
This morning, sadness and helplessness
overwhelm as the car radio blasts
the executive orders now in place.
And then…personal good news.
A CT scan that’s clear. I should be
happy, and I am thankful, but
when others are violently thrown
into turmoil and fear spreads,
how can I possibly be?
Sacred Moment
Sometimes we startle the
heron as she stands at the
end of the pond, and she
spreads her mighty wings
and flies away, afraid of
our company. Today I was
not present, not seeing,
but worrying about so
many things. And then,
from a hill above the
water, I saw her framed
between two bare trees,
tall, regal, motionless.
With no camera to record
the perfect photo, I was
disappointed …. but then
again, perhaps that one
sacred moment was only for
the heron, my dog, and me.
.
For just a few seconds
as we stood at the
end of the dock,
it was so very quiet
that I held my breath
and did not move.
Even the dragonfly
glided by soundlessly
and the geese were
hushed. Then the silence
was broken by a car’s hum
and the tree frogs’ calls.
But there was that one
moment when all was still.
A vanilla latté, a clean
CT scan, and a walk in
the neighborhood
with Luna at my side
makes my heart soar.
The sweet scent of
honeysuckle, the sight
of lavender, the throaty
whistle of a tufted titmouse,
the piercingly sweet call
of a Carolina wren,
a deer scampering
across the road,
hydrangeas adorned with
purple and white blossoms,
magnolias in full bloom,
and the delicate flowers
of coral bells stretching
heavenward. Orange
lilies screaming for
attention, purple clematis
rising up a mailbox,
the resinous smell of a
blue spruce, and last
of all, my climbing
hydrangea snaking its
way across the pergola
on the deck, blooming
like never before.
In the field by
the lake minuscule
purple blossoms
peek out among
tiny, stacked,
heart-shaped leaves,
all on one stalk.
Before today, I
saw only the
blossoms, but
this morning I
stopped, bent
down, and was
amazed. They
say you are a
weed, but edible
and medicinal.
To me, you
are a miracle.
untangling the web 