Setting Day

Setting days. That's what my grandmother called them. Can't say you've done much and yet the day was full. Like noticing how the shadow of a tree resting upon the side of a house bends as it lays down on the roof. Or watching a raven call out to others that the seed has been served. Is it the same raven each day? A different raven? I cannot tell them apart. Would that I were gifted to notice this raven as distinct from others. I cannot and yet he or she is. I need to practice. Maybe that's what setting days are all about. Noticing what you can and noticing what you can't. But setting equals noticing. I guess that, in the end, is what makes the day full. Yes grandma, it is sweet.

So May My Eyes

In the midst of winter's gray, a brown leaf, lifeless, by all accounts, and ready to return its form back to the earth. And yet its image brought me to a complete stop. Lifeless? Colorless or at the least drab? Crumpled and fragile? The sun's gentle touch thought otherwise and illuminated its beauty. So may the light of my eyes upon all life.

Gifted Softness

No greater tip could be left for one who carried out the banquet for nature's small ones to eat. A soft reminder the feather is on the ground but the winged bird is still in flight. A gentle touch from nature to nature, a small blanket offering warmth to the snow and earth. May my touch upon the earth be so simple, be so gentle.

Alpha's Hearald

Perhaps so much of what I write paints and speaks of nature because without demands, expectations She opens her arms and bids us welcome to enter. The perfect Host all she has is ours, to whatever ability we have to accept. Even when taken in greed she still offers more.  Most religious figures, the poets and others all point to nature's simple grace and beauty.

Perhaps so much of what I write paints and speaks of nature who without a single word, from the beginning of beginnings, heralded the words.... "And the greatest of these is Love."

Loosening Evolution

Sometimes I ponder the evolution of our evolution. Outside the window, a migrating sparrow standing on the edge of a little plastic tray I fill with their water, bowed towards the water to take a drink.  Later, the feisty squirrel, who makes me laugh, climbed the birds' feeder and with his small tiny hands clasped as in prayer, drew the seed towards his mouth.  Two postures so different than those we use - a bow towards the water of life and hands held like a prayer.

Neither the squirrel nor the bird have opposable thumbs or brains like ours.  And yet neither questions or frets whether they will be fed or given drink.  I know, but a silly thought, like so many, that sometimes wounds my mind. But it gave me pause to ponder the not so ordinary of life, the simple things that sometimes, perhaps, with grace, can overshadow our "evolution."

Cooling relief

The house would not release the day's heat. Outside the night air much cooler.  I placed a wet paper towel upon my neck and felt my body's heat penetrate and absorb its cherished coolness.  The heat of my neck overcame the cool relief. I placed the towel, and its tiny remaining cool relief, inside my tank top, upon my chest and against my heart. It felt as if it exploded in cooling waters sending relief throughout my body. What had relinquished to the heat was renewed.


I look at life, our world and so so many needs, suffering, pain, lack and sorrow. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed, what can one such as I do? This morning the simple little paper towel waited next to my coffee pot. It made me smile. Perhaps if I can do nothing else for the world, for you, my other me, I shall carry a cooling little paper towel and whisper, 'Not for the neck that supports the brain of thinking, place it upon your chest, your heart and feel the river of cooling relief.'

I will remember

Towards the end of lap one around the park, I watched the elderly couple get out of their car, carrying a plastic bag and holding hands.  They placed the bag on the picnic table and began to pick up the fallen limbs from the weekend’s winds.  I quickened my pace as I passed them, to see what unfolded next somehow gave strength to my body which did not want to walk.  On lap two I saw a plastic jar of what looked like granola or cereal on the table and watched them as they sat with the birds, the grass and sun eating their breakfast.  I giggled to myself, even their chewing was in sync.  Seeing me, they nodded their heads and smiled, a gift I quickly returned.  Lap three found them sitting, hands folded in their laps, their heads barely turning to see all about them, their bowls, spoons and arms quiet like the morning.  Lap four left me breathless.  I could see her standing before a plastic pan and jug of water on the table.  She was washing their dishes beneath the trees.

And when their last season has passed, will anyone recall and honor the way they sat together and ate their breakfast?  Will anyone remember the sun and wind dancing in their gray hair and upon their weathered faces?  Will anyone stand breathless, save for the sound of a sweet tear falling upon their face, and remember how she gently washed their morning dishes beneath the trees…as he quietly watched her….with a smile?

Life on the fly

The delicate dance of life.

Feathered bark upon a tree

New life waiting to unfold

Life on the fly, a momentary pause.