to morning moods
of mist,
I melt into meanings
that have long
been kissed
by kindness,
and I feel at last
the freedom
of emotions
that have long
outclassed
the mental mutterings
that try to tell
the heart
what the heart
already knows
quite well.
Once again the master painter
Flicks his brilliant brush across the sky
As he pours the sun into the sea.
Takes his gift of liquid gold
And tucks it in a pocket of your mind
To spend on rainy days.
I've lived in fairy castles
I've lived in the song of the breeze
I've lived in the breath
Of the sweet scented flowers
And the waves' lullaby to the seas
I've lived in each friendly gesture
And in each kindly word
Spoken true.
I've lived throughout all the universe
And in you and you and you
And unto all who give me attention
I linger and bless as I go
Transforming, uplifting and thrilling
Who am I?
I am Love, didn't you know?
I am the last tree to lose my leaves.
I am the single seed pod that drifts
Lazily down, landing in just the right place.
I am the lone bird, singing of autumn's gold,
Or how summer is lost.
I am the flurry of leaves that scatter
Past the porch, life in their death,
As real as my own.
I am the grain of sand,
the flake of snow,
Crystalline, infinite am I.
How rich, how rare
A spring day in the fall!
A high clear blue
Sparkling on the fruited world,
Yellows burnishing into gold,
Reds a heady wine.
All nature spurred alive
For one final fling.
Leaves fall like golden rain,
Acorns rattle down,
Migrating birds hesitate,
an added flourish in their call.
Bees work these last fateful hours,
as an extra dividend,
A respite in a world too often filled with woe.
A gift to lift, a gift of hope
in nature's golden time.
A golden gift:
A bright spring day in fall!
Today my classroom
is summer;
my teacher, God;
my textbook, a meadow;
my assignment, flowers.
While my teacher
windwhispers
wordless encouragement,
I memorize
pages and pages
of fragrant beauty.
So much to do in a clover field!
hums the bee.
So much to do!
A familiar theme,
it seems to me,
watching the pollen dusted fellow dart
from wild lupin to smiling daisy heart.
And now a butterfly in gold and brown
settles before me on a clover crown -
a plump pink cushion for the weary one
in silent gratitude to rest upon.
Wings unfolded, it remains
in passive state.
Sleeping? Or does a monarch meditate?
Weary not with well-doing, drones the bee
with zealot zest.
Come ye apart, signals the butterfly,
and rest.
The good advice each gives me
echoes in my listening heart -
the beat-pause rhythm of life's vital art.
Oh, little rose, I knew you once,
high on my garden wall.
You were so beautiful, so fragile,
but so far away.
I longed to touch you,
to hold you in my hand.
But something within your nature
seemed to say: You don't yet understand.
Later, as in a dream,
one reaching higher than a wall,
I found you lovelier than before,
for your fragrance told me all.
Live on, little rose of grace,
being what God created you to be,
For you are that eternal light
that seals our souls' destiny.
Gently, gently,
into the silence,
into communion
with omnipresent good,
not asking nor telling,
just wordlessly
knowing, feeling and loving
the one presence
with gratitude.
Now is the precious link
between what has gone
and what shall be.
It is too small to catch
and too little to stretch,
Yet without it
we would not be.
This is the ultra-verdant time;
Green lushness topped with azure blue.
The fullness of the leaf and stem
And variety of flowers' hue.
This is the ultra-verdant time;
The fruit of mind, the food for soul
Now unite and form the rhyme
Of beauty, truth, and cosmic whole.
This is the ultra-verdant time;
The journey made, the lesson learned,
Creator and created one,
The seed unto the seed returned.
