Peace Trees, their soft edged shadows grow with the season
Becoming silhouettes that blend together in summer’s lushness.
They grow and soak up the sun, turn it to life and
Feed themselves and my soul with green.
Peaceful trees; a lesson in truth.
Tag: hope
A Beautiful but Bumpy Ride
Wisdom leeches out of melting snow banks and
Star light travels from the ground up as
moonlight seeps though the pores of the earth and floods the sky with peace.
Come, sit by my side in the forest at midnight and
Feel the earth’s truth in her being.
Be still and let your soul be free.
Then hold me tightly as it is a beautiful but bumpy ride!
Winter Loneliness
Stars swirl in a midnight sky as
The forest tiptoes through darkness,
Aware only of itself.
The owls have returned.
Their voices in chorus give life to the darkness.
A fox barks back to them in welcome,
His winter loneliness forgotten.
(4/7/16)
Easter’s Promise
Snow flattened grass
Reawakens in the spring sun.
Snow banks dwindle and melt
Like arctic glaciers.
Crocuses brave the still icy winds to prove their faith in spring.
Still leafless branches sway and clack together in spring’s winds
While sap flows up from their feet and warms them from within.
Objects left outside since late October emerge from the snow, preserved as if having been in an altered state of timelessness.
Time stood still under the snow while the world and sky above
Flowed seamlessly from one season to the next, one viscous winter storm passing silently on to another.
Lawn chairs I last used in November have returned, appearing as if just back from vacation.
The chairs stand in a circle around an old, rusted fire pit with welcoming extended arms and empty seats. So I join them once again as a new season of light and promise begins, today,
Easter Sunday.
Easter is a day of great joy and hope to millions all around the world.
A day to celebrate the defeat of death and the promise of eternal life but
I see evidence of His promise every day, in early spring tree buds, in the yellowing of willows at the end of winter, in the greening of the meadow grasses and the songs of the returning summer birds.
Spring springs eternal in Gods promise to all beings, not just the human ones and not only through stories in a nice book written so very long ago …
So take a moment each day to stop and look outside and see that
Easter’s promise is everywhere, not just today but every day, in every being and
Every season.
The Single Second of Midnight
The Deep primal sounds at midnight are
A gathering of voices in the dark.
The language is unknown
But the meaning is understood.
Darkness hides the players
But not the play
As it is a script followed
Since the beginning of time.
The cast of characters remains the same with only
The players changing.
The truth of the story portrayed is undeniable, and
Is perfected in the casting of souls when the sounds of their voices gather and
Eternity resides in the single second of Midnight.
3/1/18
My Mind
My mind has become my enemy,
One that shares this space inside of me but cares not for my well-being.
It turns night into day, lust into love, wants into envy,
Truth – my truth – into lies.
It whispers in my left ear, words
My right side, it knows, will reject.
In the beginning, my human beginning, my mind
Was my friend, my ally, my confidant, but no more.
So I spend my time sitting and focusing on my
Return to that initial, eternal being,
And when that process is complete,
My mind will return to its natural state as my life navigator and soul companion.
Its taunting will stop, its search for drama will cease,
Its creation of a hundred hurtful scenarios a day will end,
And once again, as it was in the beginning,
It will become my friend.
It Waits
It waits with patience hands
Outside our knowing, waiting to be let in.
Its story is always the same,
Its truth dependable but not always what we want to hear.
There is no hypocrisy, no deceit in its soul.
It is the soul that fills the void, that encompasses the eternal.
It exists in rhythms of time, tides of dependability,
Cycles of freedom and seasons of hope.
It can be ignored, but never escaped and so it waits,
In beauty and joy, in bliss and acceptance, in love and peace,
For us to wake up and realize it is but a mirror of ourselves,
The face of our existence, the light in our souls,
The essence of our being
Before we were born.
November Silence
The color outside my bedroom window is gone.
Yet evergreens stay to remind me of life’s continuance, always existing just below the surface.
The trees are stark silhouettes of gray,
Each branch and twig evident and asleep.
There is a new silence in the wood.
It is a soft, comforting, sleeping silence.
A hush of reverence,
A soothing of soul.
Awareness hangs liked smoke among
The naked branches.
It is an awareness of belonging, of no doubts,
Of confidence in the being and faith in the belonging.
And so they stand, the trees, in winter’s silence,
In perfect harmony with their place and mine.
Each a witness to the other and
Both a witness to the One.
Still Believing
She feels like an endangered species,
While she waits, still believing in love,
She hides beneath the ordinary
Remaining the one who is always overlooked.
The well of love she holds is full,
Free for giving, free to be taken, to be emptied with limitless refills.
Yet still she waits, wanting to hope, yet not daring to,
Trying hard not to expect, knowing it may never be.
Loving yet never loved,
Loving alone,
Yet still believing.
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
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