Monday, July 28, 2014


If you’re born with the taste of salt on your
Tongue, in sight of a treetop mast; you tend
To take the wide-angle view, catch the stars,
Explore the seas; and search out the ribbon
That fastens the firmament to earth.

Unending whorls of space, deep reaches
Of ocean clutch at me like the rumble
Of earthquakes. You who are ground
And sky and sea, remember me. I tremble
Like a blown leaf on damp trampled sand.

I am not the wave who washes all things
Clean nor the shore who reaches for the lost.
I am the seashell with its ear wide open, the
Blade of grass who bends to listen for the
Possibilities in every breath.

Thursday, July 17, 2014

morning prayer by mary oliver

Morning Prayer by Mary Oliver

Every morning
the world
is created.
Under the orange

sticks of the sun
the heaped
ashes of the night
turn into  leaves again

and fasten themselves to the ;high branches--
and the ponds appear
like black cloth
on which are painted islands

of summer lilies.
If it is your nature
to be happy
you will swim away along the soft trails

for hours, your imagination
alighting everywhere
and if your spirit carries within it

the thorn
that is heavier than lead--
if it's all you can do
to keep on trudging--

there is still
somewhere deep within you
a beast shouting that the earth
is exactly what it wanted--

each pond with its blazing lilies
is a prayer heard and answered
every morning,

whether or not
you have ever dared to be happy,
whether or not
you have ever dared to pray.

Saturday, April 19, 2014

Early Morning Swim

From the glass house that holds
The swimming pool, we view
The slow roll of the seasons.

Yesterday the forsythia bloomed,
Today we’re etched with snow.
A jolt of blue erases the grey

Until we brim with the boldness
Of brass. The pathway to Spring
Is like hopscotch: two squares

Forward and one square back. I keep on
Throwing my one small stone until the
Chalk wears off and I leave for home.

April 19, 2014

I am impressed by the tongue that
Forms the sounds that make the words
That grant us conversation and the
Ability to call each other by name.

I am myself and no one else. I can
Account for only what goes on inside
My head. There are people who come
Close to being one with me but parts
Of them I do not recognize.   

We are encouraged to be individual,
Yet there is admiration for those
Who give up parts of themselves to
Benefit the many: the musician, the
medicals, those who search for God.

Saturday, March 29, 2014

March 29, 2014

March was a repetition of January...bitter cold to the end. Today was my second walk to the garden patches. It is 47 degrees this morning and somewhat damp. We expect rain this afternoon. One hardy gardener was tilling the soil which can hardly be free of frost yet. Snowdrops still look newly born, crocus are starting to bloom and daffodils have pierced the soil. The thread-like blooms of the witch hazel would be better appreciated if last years leaves would exit.

Amanda and her church group leave Guatemala this morning after their weak-long mission trip. I see smiling children's faces on Facebook while the group was visiting a school. Looks like the kids really latched on to these foreign visitors.

Monday, March 24, 2014

Instead of Spring

One year, it kept on snowing
and spring failed to appear.
Ground floor entrances were
buried, so we skied in and out
of second story windows.
The only way to find food was
by helicopter or dog sled. We flew in
extra dogs to help keep the trails packed.
It saved a lot of wear on highways
and since traffic lights were useless,
we shut down all the windmills. We
special-ordered barrels and parachutes.
When seed catalogs arrived, we burned
them in the barrels to keep the dogs warm.
We kept parachutes wrapped in backpacks
in case we needed a doctor or hospital.
We never discovered where spring
had gone but after the melt and
after the mud, we found roses
and peonies in full bloom,
as well as grasshoppers and
red-winged blackbirds
in the fields.

Saturday, July 13, 2013

Childhood memories: Nonsense Song

It was midnight on the ocean;
Not a street car was in sight.
The sun was shining brightly,
And it rained all day that night.

'Twas a summer's night in winter
And the rain was snowing fast.
A barefoot boy with shoes on
Stood sitting on the grass.

....It was evening and the rising sun
Was setting in the West.
The little fishes in the trees
Were huddled in their nest.

While the organ peeled potatoes,
Lard was rendered by the choir.
While the sexton rang the dish rag,
Someone set the church on fire.

"Holy Smoke," the preacher shouted,
And in the rush he lost his hair.
Now his head resembles heaven,
For there is no parting there....