Tagged with poetry

to me, to you

to me, to you

I celebrate myself, And what I assume you shall assume, For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. These are the first three lines in Song of Myself by Walt Whitman.  His words in this poem go on to twist and turn .  If you’ve never read it, you may want to. … Continue reading

jeweled damsels

jeweled damsels

Sometimes when we think about a goal, we think it will make us feel better to reach that goal…often leading us to hold on for dear life and become fearful if something takes us off our path toward that goal. While I was painting this piece I learned that you can have a vision, a … Continue reading

Room with a View

Room with a View

The sky was the ocean The view a harbor The clouds ships of all shapes And sizes sailing by Some big enough to lay shadow across the room Some small The pasture of lush green rippled as the wind Rolled over it and pushed the white fluffy sails The oaks sparse, waved lovingly to the passers by While the … Continue reading

The Susquehanna In-Between

The Susquehanna In-Between

A heavy sky on the river today Yet she does not know it As usual her beauty doesn’t hold back She guides the fallen leaves Dropping them in perfect places Where their nutrients will help Bring us the next spring Her rusty plants soon to be trampled by the coming storm A playhouse for this … Continue reading

Shades of Harvest

Shades of Harvest

pastels span the horizon at blurred angles shades of the harvest season have arrived as the cool air beckons the sun to bed early soft pink, misty blues blend into dulling greens rusty yellows sprinkle the fallow fields change is upon us

Summer’s Not Over

Summer’s Not Over

silly me wearing a jacket the sun beating my back quickly reminded me there was still time to soak its warm rays up the goldfinches buzzed at me too zipping and dazzling still bold black and yellow through goldenrod and asters that shined in the fading field and served troughs of nectar as bees and moths frenzied for their … Continue reading

Rest

Rest

when I closed my eyes you weren’t there anymore the suffocating knot of a mess washed away by deep courage and care breathing comes easier reawakened through rest

The Meeting

The Meeting

the floor beckoned me for a meeting like a long lost friend my aching body met its call stretching tall breathing deeply swinging gently forward remembering our connection once again a visit long overdue

With Grace

With Grace

she waits for years each coarse piece journeys from the north tumbling meandering pulled by the rapids shoved, scrubbed rubbed until rough edges shine smooth she guides them in with grace to adorn her westerly shore

Cultivate

Cultivate

till your heart so deeply you cry colors of joy work the weeds of your soul gently amend each thought each story until your rolling hills run lush and gold harvest with kindness through the spectrum of the past through every season cultivate this practice with bold respect for your sacred edge

One Mile Back

One Mile Back

memories stir unworthiness appears wanting to understand searching for an answer converse with your worth see understanding bears no resolve agree that timeworn reflection stays one mile back find your answer nowhere but right here in surrender

One Moment

One Moment

only one moment to notice breathtaking love fed by the joy of butterflies fluttering on the sweet bounty of blooms only that moment to breathe to smile to appreciate the perfection of what is on the outside to heal the inside

Potential

Potential

young minds race old minds teach strangers become acquaintances acquaintances become friends an endless view the river shows vast potential

This Afternoon

This Afternoon

jeweled damsels tango tightly for their territory of leaves along the runway of the creek big and small flies investigate and annoy tiger swallows and monarchs play in the joe-pye black juicey berries beg to be picked but the wrens yell prickly stay out of my bush

Pokeweed

Pokeweed

   snowy dangling flowers twirling round transform green to deep indigo poked fruits that local singers gladly sow in the rough fallow edges

Embraces

Embraces

the mist embraces the tender mountain without question of what came before the delicate drops offer understanding the resistant woodland hears acceptance together they meld nourishing one another slipping into the night sky

The Storm

The Storm

we’ve been waiting for you hot sticky irritable cruel now you are here strong bold rumbling cool breaking the tension you envelop us

Evening Seat

Evening Seat

pieces of the river so subtle and clear reflections from the sky a contrasting mirror smooth as glass water lays as a surplus of dimples float gently my way a warm wind rolling over turn the trees to to heaven’s ear greens hands in agreement reach up and cheer dragonflies jump around song sparrows connect … Continue reading

The Cicada in the Sumac

The Cicada in the Sumac

this morning I strolled in to an amphitheater made of trees a dull sound, so sonorous buzzed through the leaves chirps, gawks and trills added accent, added depth culminating to a symphony of expressive, natural peace who was this new visitor that invoked such sweet melody my eyes and my ears wanted proof I could … Continue reading

The Bumblebee

The Bumblebee

a web of white, washed green highlighted fragrant violet in the midst of concrete in the middle of town a little town of its own for the gentlest of visitors who flurry and feast floating around its webs of blossoming leaves trading gifts with his host the most impressive of bees the bulbous, round brute … Continue reading

Summer Rain

Summer Rain

swaths of clouds gently push a cool breeze through the air rain drops like fairies tap my skin, curl my hair a refrain from the warmth you visit our space with kindness with softness with replenishing grace

Simple Prayer to Allow

Simple Prayer to Allow

stories flutter like fallen leaves showing paths I have traveled beautiful and scary shiny and dull they color my future and interrupt my now allow me to rest with my power my present to discover to connect without effort or care where the roots of my soul lay open and bare

Note to a Sycamore

Note to a Sycamore

Weathered at the base your raw bark maps terrain for the creatures so miniscule, so small in compare your core is so mighty it seems your branches are too they compete for your girth and slither out with force toward the flowing water toward the sun toward the gaps in the earth your shed bark … Continue reading