Thursday, December 31, 2009

New Year's Eve 2009

Quiet stars rest in the meadow
As if a piece of heaven has come
down to rest among the sleeping roots
and trees and flowers
Maybe humming
Maybe listening
but surely trusting
in the well-being of
Winter's quiet breath.

There is nothing so fun as being engulfed in a winter's twilight. Among quiet, but stirring trees; among hidden, but breathing flowers; among starlight, surely calling you home.

Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

November 2009

Crisp leaves scurry across the ground, breaking free from the morning frost. Bare branches sway like cathedrals against a darkening sun. A late chirp of sparrows interrupts November’s quiet dusk.

It’s the time for Thanksgiving.
And how grateful I am for the woods; this one, the one I had as a child, the ones I will have when I’m old. I think - though thousands of miles apart- they are the same. I think tree energy surpasses lines on a map. I think the hum echoes, travels, shares, waits open-armed. And I suppose if I was to sit against a tree, might I feel you against yours?

Oh for the grace of trees.

Anthea and Marigold listen to November’s heartsong . . . colorful as cranberries, sincere as the frosted leaf, thick with promise, and endless as one’s imagination.