Sunday, June 25, 2006

haiku trellis

tiny brown bird
vine and blue scent trailing

Saturday, June 24, 2006

Dance of Hands

I have a friend whose cheer is a treasure. There is a lot I could say about her, but instead, these words flowed so easy into poem:
Life is a dance of hands
and all is well.
I've got turquoise
and rose hip red.
Always sunshine
with Sheila.
n : the fruit of a rose plant [syn:
hip, rose hip]
WordNet ® 2.0, © 2003 Princeton University

Saturday, June 17, 2006

today's gift

. everyday is a gift . but this one is sung from the trees . by full-feathered chorus line . and a squirrel . all song and nuts for the storm in the night . could have woke the dead . but i slept . sound in its lightning . nothing . but love and blessings . this earth . and its gift delivered . in light and sound .

Saturday, June 10, 2006

Storm of Sound

Mornings are my time to review the dream-processing of the day before, and set the table of the next 24 hours. First I tune into the ambient sounds--kind of a check on the gift of life in this physical world--as a ramp to a higher bounty of the divine. Here is an example of a start earlier this week.
Storm of sound--my day:
fan in the attic.
jet in heavy, gray sky
a population of robins
anticipating more rain
and a sparrow as jubilant
thunder from the west
eave drops fall to deck
street traffic wet and running
through my morning map of love
and a sound divine
still climbing
this is my day.

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

Rain This Morning

I knew it would be a special day--when I heard its whisper upon returning from another world.

Rain This Morning

Rain this morning—wake to its hush.
Wash me with the love of silence.
Its sound still soaks in dream state
an easy return there
singing God’s name, retracing
the path from darkness.

Rain this morning, a melody,
blessing the final steps of recall
the saga unfolding
as trees draw the water
a new stream feeds the needs
of every acorn planter.

Somewhere a prairie blanket waves
in golden adoration
for its day too will come
on the breast of a meadowlark
and its sunlit song.

But first this note of gentle falling
gives up its other hand as robins indulge
the rain this morning
a token of Love
by this summer soaking.

Go slow at first, release
the knot of yesterday’s brief,
the tears of longing,
and a kitten for Dawn.
Each a splash in the birdbath of song.
The rain this morning
remodels the day.