beginnings of remembering ~
25 Thursday Feb 2021
Posted Poetry, spirituality, verse
in25 Thursday Feb 2021
Posted Poetry, spirituality, verse
in31 Friday Jul 2020
Posted Poetry, spirituality
inTags
acceptance, allowance, faith, flowers, forgiveness, growth, lilies, love, nature, seasons, time, trust, understanding
the winter curse
has almost gone –
as lilies bend around
how soft
their tender petals
brush my toes
lies I spent a lifetime
with want for reasons why
but now the spring
a garden brings –
in color
blooms the snow
. . .
20 Friday Apr 2018
Posted Poetry, spirituality
indaylight steals her dewy breath
begs the blossoms bloom
with colors of ten thousand summer songs
brushed into a tapestry
laced with rich perfume
the soul’s delight
held captive by the wind
dusted to the mountain tops
swept upon the sea
gardens burst familiar –
as children born
of eve
. . .
17 Thursday Mar 2016
Posted Poetry, Storytelling
inruby crush
as sapphire
comes to roost
outside my door
morning
finds a place
where lovers wait
beyond the reach
of shadow –
a song
I strain to hear
a wanderer
made home again
leans against
the gate
lilac taints
the walkway –
where honeysuckle
climbs
to meet at once
a star
she meant to claim
some far away
forgotten here
except by butterflies
a lazy bee
who knows them all
by name
. . .
23 Tuesday Feb 2016
Posted Poetry
inwhere today
in your wandering ways
have you noticed
the color
of light –
blue as a blossoming
glory arose
to stand in the path
beside your
highway
come as a message
written to love
pressed between pages
once you were here
leaning together
another became
seeds
before heaven
we bloomed
. . .
28 Friday Aug 2015
Posted a time for telling, Poetry, Storytelling
inTags
angels, assurance, beauty, blessings, connection, conscious consciousness, country, family, flowers, grace, home, knowing, life, love, nature, oneness, sorrow, story, together, trees, truth
Friday. Another sweet surrender.
Whenever I need re-centering, I know where to go. With every return to nature, I am strengthened. I am remembered to myself time and again.
Just this morning, before heading off to work, I sat for a moment and pulled myself into the now, focused not on the two places where nothing is – the past, the future. The breeze was soft and even in the present, there were scatterings of other times at the edges of my memory. So, I focused on the trees that push against the fence line.
They are without rule, without the strict reinforcement of man. They grow, and I let them. But in them, I was again reminded back to a lesson, one which I needed their help to re-find.
Every country girl moved to the big city knows one thing for certain. Regardless where you are, there is a part of you that grows deeper than concrete. You also know that while it’s a wonderful thought to dig up some of those baby trees for transplanting to city yards, it rarely works.
That’s because nature is without the limits of man’s wisdom. She grows untended, dogwood pressed against oak; redbud blossoming between pine and sweet gum; lady slipper and sumac in the same patch of moss. If you dig one up, expecting to see thick strong roots, you’ll be surprised. They aren’t that way at all. They are fragile and sprawling and weaved into each other. It is an environment that teaches them both to fight and to bend. So, if you relocate that pretty little redbud to the wide open space of a city yard, she will likely die.
And there, the lesson. We not only belong together; we are meant to be together. Our roots are made stronger when bound with another, reminding us to each other (to home) again and again.
As some of you know, my father was diagnosed with Parkinson disease some years ago. It is a blessing and a curse. Like any other disease, it is a lover that only ever wants more of that which we hold dear. But the blessing is in the lessons learned – in the weaving together of joys, memories, and challenges. Even sorrow is a gift for it surely never leaves us where it found us. I reflect on my interaction with my daddy, mama, my brother and sisters. Where one is lacking, another picks up. Even in the tight space of a hospital room or a kitchen, we are remembered back to the dance of being one, together, the same. One leans in as another sways. Weaving never is finished. Knots are tied and re-tied to remind us of moments fragile and perfect, but only always of love – the divine water that allows us to bloom, to grow, to strengthen, to pray, to heal.
So, back to the woods (the now). If you dared to dig up that little redbud, and tried to unravel her roots, you might be amazed. Not only would you find them intertwined with the neighboring pine and dogwood, but you’d find traces of roots from trees and flowers long since gone.
Her real beauty (her strength) lies not in the blush that decorates a forest, but in that which reaches deeper than dirt. As with all of us, the real story is the one written to her soul.
. . .
what story
mine
beginning here
from traces of hello
resounds within
the echoes of goodbye
last we loved
might I have known
the way
would lead me back
where we are new –
made one
within the light
. . .
21 Friday Jun 2013
Posted Poetry
inTags
becoming, bliss, blossom, connection, dreams, flowers, forgiveness, grace, life, living, love, nature, old maps, passion, seasons, spirit, truth, wonder
rows and rows
the sweet parade
of sage and blue magnolia
– crystal stems
and boxes put away
came for me
saved for me
the story yet for telling
of where the suitor left
his red bouquet
of juniper
and mid july
june bugs now are swarming
as white tailed sails
are swayed against the breeze –
wishes work their way
into places
I’ve forgotten
daisies watch the yard
for refugees
of summer come
repenting
for hurts the winter knew
hands at last
have found the rights of spring
morning rises sleepy
to the garden
here we lay
held beneath the bloom –
remembering
. . .
Starry-eyed Writer, Cautious Philosopher, Hopeful Romantic
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