Sunday, August 28, 2016


See that tree over there,
shrouded in the autumn mist?
letting go of dying things.
Not screaming,
not clutching,
not hanging on to what once was…
Just letting go, letting fall,
that for which
time has come.
Leaves now exquisite decay
yellow, gold and brown,
blanketing the ground.
And the tree,
hemmed by death,
retreats deeply into itself
saving its life
for when the sun returns.

Thursday, May 19, 2016

Dearest young one yet to come...

Dearest young one yet to come…

I hope for you a quiet place where the whispers of God are heard on the wind.
I hope for you unfettered access to our Mother Earth and her healing ways.
I pray you find your body manifested in the trees, the rivers, the dark rich soil and that you know the animals, birds and insects to be your brothers and sisters.
I pray you love and are loved with tenderness and compassion that ignites a fire within you to stand with the oppressed and stand for justice and peace.
I pray your courage takes the form of vulnerability and your hopes and dreams take the form of service to this Earth and all life within and upon her.

As I settled into a place to write this I find a small dead bird in a plastic bag, left by the lake under a tree.  Someone placed the poor creature here, I imagine, so her spirit could rest in beauty.

And I remove her from the plastic bag and dig for her a cradle in the Earth so she can return to the nurturing womb of our planet and feed the lives of those to come.

And this I do for you.