Sunday morning Bach

Sweet spring sunshine and cooling breezes,

White puffs of clouds drift in crystal blue skies

And birds sing in joy and welcome.

My little deck is my spot,

A haven  of sunlight and windchimes.

A space for me to be, just be and let the words flow in from

Somewhere else, through, and maybe in spite of, me.

Bach flows out through the door and into the forest.

It is a perfect fit and complements the trees and sky.

Echoes with a man’s gift of voice to joy.  The trees know

and resonate in response to this gift. I can feel them.

Geese fly overhead,

Lending their voices to the serenade.

As I sit here, tea cup in hand, sharing this pace with the cats and sunshine,

I can think of no better place to be.

The music fills my heart, the forest fills my soul

With the essence of truth, and

The sunshine fills my dreams with the promise of hope and

A sence that the world is beautifutl, as it is

Meant to be, we need only to look for and welcome in the joy

Hari Om.

Snow is gone but the ground

Still holds its cold.

Warmth in spots, sun showers

Sink beneath my skin warming me from the inside out.

Familiar places return from the

Snows, like crops from the field.

Plants and flower stalks rise from

The ashes of last year’s autumn,

And leaves flattened by winter’s drifts

Stir in the spring breeze and blow in gangs across the yard.

All is in motion, change is in the air

And the earth responds.

The ice comes out of the birdbath in a saucer

shaped disk, embedded with seed husks.

The spring forest greens from the ground up and red and brown catkins

decorate the maple and aspen tree tops.

Even the sound of the windchimes responds to the spring breezes.

Winter’s harsh clanging is softened to a lovely lull of melody.

Oak trees gladly relinquish last year’s leaves to

make room for new buds opening.

As if to say, “Now is the time – the moment has come, embrace the new season

of growth and life until the cycle repeats and winter’s snow returns with the

silence and stillness of ice.”

The snow melts and earth softens.

Sprouts erupt and the worms awaken.

 

The green overtakes the brown

In slow stages.

 

It sneaks in at the bottom first then

In from the edges.

 

Herbs spring to life

Under cover of dead leaves.

 

Perennials all, they recognize

The season’s changes first

 

And push themselves through the snow.

First to rise, first to shine.

 

A change in seasons has begun, another winter survived

And the hope and promise of spring proves true yet again.

Train whistles

On fog shrouded nights.

Rain drops on the window make

Streaks of street lights.

The scent of the warm night pavment cooled by the rain

Rises from the street and in through the third floor window.

The grass and driveway

glisten in city head lights.

Daytime’s dust and dirt are  washed away.

The morning brings sunlight and blue sky.

The night rain has worked its magic.

The world is new and clean, ready to begin again.

The trees know,

Their arms are raised in praise.

 

They are the silent watchers,

Keepers of God’s grace.

 

Witnesses to earth’s energy and

Sentinels of belief.

 

Living unmoving, uncomplicated lives

With a dedication to truth, they know no other way.

 

Their lives are lived in darkness and solitude

But with a shared purpose.

 

They are the keepers of the leaves,

The holders of the inner light.

 

Their towering strength and imposing presence

Gives voice to the wind.

 

They are the epitome of trust, glorious beings,

watching and waiting.

 

4/2/15

MC

Predawn walks

On moon lit paths.

 

Earth sleeps among

Twilight’s clouds.

 

Thoughts and feelings

Blur with dark wood shadows.

 

Familiar landscape lies hidden,

Feels strange and magical.

 

Mist rises off the river

Coating shoreline trees in shells of ice.

 

Broken ice floats away

To melt and join the sea.

 

Landscape changes with the approach of spring and

I leave the warmth of my cottage to witness.

 

Long sleep of the dark time loosens its grip

And the world stretches and awakens once again.

 

The dependability of the seasons never disappoints

bringing stability to my life and loves.

 

4/1/15

MC

 

Waves of white,

Dunes of snow.

 

A magical expanse

Of openness and light.

 

Wind swirls the

Snow in columns,

 

Leaving patterns of circles

In their wake.

 

The wind howls in eerie

Cries of loneliness and desperation.

 

All life is kept covered

Awaiting the sun,

 

Resting in the silence

And stillness of cold.

 

A ring of trees keeps watch

And defines the space.

 

I sit in the snow and sing.

My song resonates in the emptiness

Changing forever the space within.

 

This place fills me

And I am empty no more.

 

2/15

MC