Nowhere To Move To

I start at the edge of the woods,

In the bright shiny green chair.

 

But the sun moves,

Its fast shadow cooling my feet and the legs.

 

Cool air rises to take the sun’s place,

Filling its shadow.

 

So I move, dragging my chair,

Holding my phone and Mary’s book.

 

I sit again, read a few pages, then the

The sun moves and again I drag my chair.

 

My spot I choose by the marigolds doesn’t last either and once again

I move.

 

This time to the red chair by the driveway.

My book and phone follow as I know they will.

 

And now, as I sit on the driveway in the red chair,

The sun’s shadow creeps ever closer to my feet and

 

I realize there is nowhere else to go, nowhere to move to,

Nowhere else to be, but it’s alright, an ending of sorts, I guess.

 

I can leave my chair here, empty, on the driveway,

No one will notice, no one will come to move it.

 

I am no longer in anyone’s way.

Harvest

Pumpkins roasting in the oven,

Canning jars full of summer bounty drying on the counter.

Carrots and beets are waiting in the cottage garden, waiting to be pulled and washed,

Blanched and put to rest in the freezer.

Summer’s tender fruits have come and gone.

Only the hardy and hardest of all remain.

The winter squash takes the place of its summer

Thin skinned cousins.

Hard beets, potatoes, and turnips

Wait to be dug and stored in the cellar.

Apples shine on the trees, enticing us to climb and gather.

Their red faces sparkle in the sun, begging to be picked and boxed.

So yet again, we preserve the jewels of summer to be cherished in the dead of winter,

They remind us of the taste of summer, when gardens are asleep and dreaming.

Love in Silence

It is a soft and gracious October evening.

The wood-stove’s warmth seeps into every nook and cranny,

Warming me from the floor up.

I step out of a hot shower after coating my body with

The silky texture and fragrance of rosemary/lavender goats’ milk soap.

I wrap myself in soft cotton towels and robe and

Settle into my favorite chair for an evening of creating.

While I write, the clouds evaporate over my house and

Star light shines in through the skylight over my head.

The clear skies bring cold frosty night air to fog and freeze my windows.

But the warmth holds tight inside while the cold air presses against my door.

On this October night the stove will win, the moths will shiver, the crickets will fall silent and

Falling leaves will crackle and dance in the biting wind.

While I, in my soft warmth, will think of you and write of love in silence.

Truth and Freedom

It is within the stillness between my heart beats and

The silence between my breaths that I have found my truth and freedom.

It is subtle, unimposing, but

All-encompassing and the only truth there is.

It is the only truth that need be, and the only reality that is eternal.

The truth is evident in the radiance that shines from the sleeping faces of babies,

And the soft sunshine on a clear blue autumn day.

My heart and soul accept the divine gift that has been given to me and I know now,

Beyond a doubt, that my freedom is of me and from me and

Mine alone to believe.

Because of Him

Gratitude for the smallest of things

Becomes gratitude for the eternal.

Because the eternal exists in even the smallest,

A baby’s laugh, a milkweed bloom, a crystal blue winter sky.

An autumn leaf, falls softly in silence,

Releasing its life with gratitude in a celebration of color.

It is the small things in my life that cover me in warmth and

Feed the fire of my gratitude with love.

I am thankful for sunrises and sunsets,

The defining moments of each day’s beginning and end.

I am grateful for my children and grandchildren –

All manifestations of God.

The life light in a newborn’s eye,

Holds the spirit of heaven and the knowledge of Krishna’s grace.

And when I am in danger of forgetting these things, I sit and go deep inside myself,

Inside to that point where I am connected directly to him and he brings me back to grace.

It is my gratefulness that fuels my passions for the loves in my life, from acorns to hummingbirds

Grasshoppers to lightning storms,

Soft kisses at midnight,

And sweet love in the morning.

I am grateful to exist in a flood of grace and love.

Grace that is endless and effortless, and love that is all encompassing.

My heart is full and soft and my smiles are because of him.

Hari Om

 

Because of Him

 

Gratitude for the smallest 

Becomes gratitude for the eternal,

Because the eternal exists in even the smallest of things,

Like a baby’s smile, a milkweed bloom, and crystal blue winter skies.

An autumn leaf, falling softly and quietly,

Releases its life full of gratitude willingly in a celebration of color,  it knows.

It is the smallest of things in my life that cover me in warmth and

Feed the fire of my gratitude with love.

I am thankful for sunrises and sunsets,

The defining moments of each day’s beginning and end.

I am grateful for my children and grandchildren and friends –

All manifestations of God.

Even the light in the eyes of the the wild ones of my forest home

Shines with the spirit of the heavens and the intimate knowledge of Krishna’s grace.

And when I am in danger of forgetting these things, these perfect and beautiful things,

something as simple as seeing my clear glass canning jars, standing in a sparkling row,

Can bring me back to myself, to my home,

The home I hold deep within, the one that holds the essence of me.

It is my gratefulness that fuels my passions for the loves in my life, from acorns to hummingbirds

Grasshoppers to lightning storms,

Soft kisses at midnight,

And sweet love in the morning.

I am grateful to exist in a flood of grace and love.

Grace that is endless and effortless, and love that is freeing and all encompassing.

My heart is full and my smiles are because of him.

Hari Om

The Day I Died

 

It’s hard to remember all the details of the day I died.

It’s mostly just a blur now.

Guess it really doesn’t matter,

But I think it was a Thursday…

A cold and cloudy late fall Thursday afternoon,

Windy and gray.

Cold, strong winds buffeted my little house while 

Trees danced together above the skylight.

The wood stove was blazing across the room.

Its smoke blew by the windows on gusts of northern winds.

Fall’s blazing colors had already faded to the browns and grays of late November and gangs of dry leaves blew across the yard gathering in wood’s hollows and house corners.

No song birds were left behind, the only sound a murder of crows that had gathered on the edge of the clearing, watching, waiting … did they know?

My afternoon tea was steaming on the table beside me as evening shadows grew longer preparing to swallow my cottage in darkness.  Night was coming on earlier and earlier as late autumn made its way closer to winter.

I had gotten up to put another log on the fire and then rearranged myself back in my fireside chair, ready to read, when it began …

At first it was just a familiar sleepy feeling but as the feeling deepened, I realized something was Different; the slowing was within me, deep within, not of this time or place.

The trees continued their dance but now in slow motion silence. 

The crackling of the stove became faint and far away.

What my eyes took in no longer mattered,

And feeling my heart beat stop had no effect on me.

My breath had slowed to a stuttering sign as I felt the me inside

Float to the surface and leave this plain of existence.

I passed into another realm,

The veil between the worlds having been lifted for my entrance.

I cannot accurately explain what I saw and felt as

It is not of this world or this mind set to understand but

They were all there, the “they” I wanted and needed.

My being became wrapped in love and acceptance, a total eternal acceptance.

All pretenses were stripped away and time ceased to exist.

I never wanted to leave and rejoiced in the knowing that I would never have to as

All endings had been left behind.

It’s all still just a blur,

Guess it really doesn’t matter

But I think it was a Thursday…

In Shared Seclusion

 

 

A field of brown grass,

A drop of chilly dew,

A morning kissed ripe apple, and

A bursting milkweed pod…

Signs of the change of seasons and an

Elevation of my consciousness.

Summer has ended.

It has shed its past and faded into isness

But it’s an isness that is charged with the now.

At the change of seasons, there is a new definition of me.

One that shifts with the sun angles and holds my spirit in kindness.

It is a newness in me that ebbs and flows with the tides and moon cycles.

That builds on the new life essence that captures my attention

That fills my heart and soul.

An essence of change, of new life, of new beginnings from old endings.

It is a change that envelopes my being and carries me along with it.

A flood of truth and trust, a deluge of emotions and warmth.

My heart misses the summer season but my soul is alive with the contentment of the coming winter.

A sheltered silence in seasonal separateness

But all together just the same…

In shared seclusion.

Sweet, Sweet September

September’s muted sunshine and billowing clouds

 Speak of a change to come, a change already begun.

In soft subtle shifts of afternoon shadows and heavy morning dew laden grass,

Autumn makes its arrival known.

Summer slides sleepily away, the heat having worn her out

As the freshness of fall takes her place.

Meadow grasses turn brown

And Goldenrod losses its shine.

Milkweed pods bust open, trusting their future generations to the wind and

 Flocks of geese gather together to finalize their flight plan.

In the subtle softness of September the world is poised for transition.

There is no harshness to September…

The cold biting winds and freezing temperatures

Are saved for November and the first dusting of frost for October.

September exists to give us a gentle push towards winter,

While reminding us from week to week and sometimes day to day of what we will miss

 Until spring arrives again and the earth warms, the geese return and

 The faith of the milkweeds is fulfilled.

Dissolving

I sit, candlelight flickering

Through my eyelids.

 

The skylight reflects the candlelight back to me,

And the new moon back to the moon.

 

The night landscape is dark,

Cold and endless.

 

I am cold and endless as I rise above the candle.

The wind blows my hair and chills my bones.

 

My eyes scan the dark earth.

Fields lie in wait, trees sleep.

 

Hills role on to hills,

And night sky meets night wood.

 

My body and gaze rise above

The wood to the sky.

 

Dark joining dark,

Points of light joining points of light.

 

In the darkness there is no separation of earth and sky.

In my darkness there is no separation.

 

The flicker of candlelight

Through the skylight fades with distance.

 

The quiet and dark become who I am,

All encompassing, all inclusive, comforting

All dissolving into one.