Breathing
The trees breathe out so that we may breathe in. We breathe out so that the flowers, grasses & trees may breathe in. And so it goes. And thus it has always been
Day breaks in the forest
The sun heaved past the horizon setting the treetops on fire Sunlight slowly moved toward the forest floor dispelling the shadows of the night. © Composting Words
Half Awake Illusion
In the half awake moments before full consciousness I believed it was July; warm and sunny. I smiled My eyes opened to a gray and rainy morning. Not summer at all. October. And cold. September (and August) already gone. I could feel my heart yearning to go back. I surprised myself with this holding on.…
A Photo’s Little Lie
Look closer still;
the light’s not right
and gives clue to
the photo’s lie.
The things I might have learned
If my Abenaki grandmother did not have to live white, I might have learned the uses for heal-all, burdock and spirea. How to read the meaning in a wolf call. I might have learned to weave baskets of sweetgrass, the best time to dig the root of the blackberry, the names of the healing plants…
Stormy Day Rhythms
The clouds thicken, the flecks of weak sunlight disappear; darkening and dropping ‘til a soft sprinkle of rain begins. The wind and waves slowly and steadily gather strength. Blow, splash. Blow, splash. White caps parade across the bay as the islands play hide and seek in the fog, then dissolve into gray. Windows rattle. Tall…
Gifts from the Sea (Haiku)
Gifts from the Sea Offerings to the Great Spirit. The heart knows.
Flowers by the Sea
A few photos from our vacation on Mt. Dessert Island of lupine & beach rose, the quintessential Maine ocean-side flowers, and some favorite daisy shots (they are happy by the sea, too!) And a poem thrown in for good measure. 🙂 Flowers by the Sea Lupine’s purple spires announce, “summer’s here!” The deep purples gray…
Finding grace in the backyard
The late afternoon light gracefully wafted its way down through the trees, waltzed atop the blades of grass, twirling do-si-dos around the dandelions until . . . it landed softly all around me as I sat there cross-legged on the lawn; connecting me to the sacred, right there in my tiny backyard.
Making a Wish for Peace
‘Tis the season of feathery parachutes floating here and drifting there with the scent of lilac and apple blossoms. May each one spread a seed of peace.
