• gratitude,  landscape,  natural areas,  Pineridge Natural Area,  poems,  poetic journal,  poetry,  sunrises,  writing/reading

    Morning Sanctuaries

    June 21, 2022

    My day begins in the sanctuary of my home.
    with the quiet of prayer and meditation.

    Then I make my way to the sanctuary
    of a local natural area.

    My feathered sisters and brothers greet me as the goldfinches,
    house finches, chickadees, meadowlarks, magpies,
    robins, swallows all sing songs of joy this morning.

    I watch their amazing aerial antics as they snatch insects in midair
    or playfully chase one another from branch to branch.

    My eyes catch that patient fisherman, the Great Blue Heron,
    who silently wades in the shallow waters of Dixon Reservoir.

    A pair of mallards cruise the waters of the reservoir
    sending their delicate wavelets to shore.

    A noisey crow pesters a red-tail hawk, both adrift in the baby blue sky.

    Two bashful cottontails step from their hiding place
    to nibble on blades of grass.

    My soul now filled with nature’s delights
    and the mind cleared of intrusive thoughts,
    I make my way to one of my coffee shop sanctuaries.

    Two young squirrels pause their wrestling
    to keep a watchful eye on me as I enter this sanctuary
    then scamper up a tree.

    Now sitting in a favorite chair enjoying my mocha latte,
    crafted with love by Emma.

    I now put pen to paper in my journal
    taking note of the ordinary gifts
    given in my morning sanctuaries.

    ms
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  • Black and White,  Mary Oliver,  poems,  poetry,  Self-portraits

    Temple of Thought

    May 19, 2022

    Not quite four a.m., when the rapture of being alive
    strikes me from sleep, and I rise
    from the comfortable bed and go
    to another room, where my books are lined up
    in their neat and colorful rows. How 

    magical they are! I choose one
    and open it. Soon
    I have wandered in over the waves of the words
    to the temple of thought.

                      And then I hear
    outside, over the actual waves, the small,
    perfect voice of the loon. He is also awake,
    and with his heavy head uplifted he calls out
    to the fading moon, to the pink flush
    swelling in the east that, soon,
    will become the long, reasonable day. 

                           Inside the house
    it is still dark, except for the pool of lamplight
    in which I am sitting.
                      I do not close the book. 
    Neither, for a long while, do I read on.

    Mary Oliver, her poem The Loon from What Do I know?
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  • coffee life,  coffee shops,  fountain pens,  journal,  lifestyles,  musings,  poetry,  still life,  writing/reading

    … with you

    May 13, 2022

    It was an overcast morning and cool. There was no need for a coat, my fleece would do fine. I slept well and felt refreshed. On most mornings I usually start my day by asking and relying on my intuition. Do I want to head to a natural area and all that it has to offer or do I head to a coffee shop and all it has to offer. This is a gift of retirement. After quiet time my intuition lead me to a local coffee shop. I was not disappointed as my barista, Devan, brightened my day with her latte art. Of course a photo needed to be taken followed by my feeble attempts to write about it.

    crafted with frothed milk
    a work of art now created
    no longer just a latte

    the sense of taste awakens
    as the visual sense is transformed
    when lips touch the cups rim

    now sharing this experience
    as a written memory in the journal
    … and with you

    ms

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  • Plants,  poems,  poetry,  seasons,  snow,  winter scenes

    …something stronger

    March 12, 2022

    My dear,
    In the midst of hate, I found there was, within me, an invincible love.
    In the midst of tears, I found there was, within me, an invincible smile.
    In the midst of chaos, I found there was, within me, an invincible calm.
    I realized, through it all, that…
    In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.
    And that makes me happy. For it says that no matter how hard the world pushes against me, within me, there’s something stronger – something better, pushing right back.

    Albert Camus

    I was making a trash-run then going to check my mail when I saw these tracks on the edge of the frozen pond. After tossing the trash and checking the mail I spent about 15 minutes outside taking a few photos so my hands were cold when I got inside.

    I do not know if I’ve ever read this complete poem by Albert Camus until today. I’m familiar with only a portion of it; “In the midst of winter, I found there was, within me, an invincible summer.” But this whole poem had much to say to me about the chaos in our world today and the ability to push back. I totally agree with him that there is something stronger within all of us. He only lists three, love, smile and calm, to overcome hate, tears and chaos, but there are many more. We can begin with the Prayer of St. Francis. What’s interesting to me is he adds the adjective invincible to each of them. Webster’s defines invincible as: incapable of being conquered, overcome, or subdued. Yes, I believe in that “something stronger– something better” within all of us, is pushing right back.

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  • coffee life,  coffee shops,  fountain pens,  journal,  poems,  poetry,  writing/reading

    just maybe…

    February 25, 2022

    saddened by the thinking
    of so many that violence is
    a solution for peace
    or a solution to anything

    nor is violence a show of
    masculinity or strength
    it only breeds its own poison
    the innocent pay the price

    may we not be just the
    indifferent and silent….

    yesterday I sought solace
    within my journal pages
    seeking words for comfort
    to calm my inner turmoil

    then I remembered the words of
    one of our peacemakers

    Thich Nhat Hanh believed
    that there is no way to peace…
    peace is the way

    haven’t we proved violence
    is not a solution
    maybe Thầy’s right
    just maybe…

    mws
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  • fog,  landscape,  Plants,  poems,  poetry,  trees,  writing/reading

    Gift of Forgiveness…

    January 20, 2022

    in the silence of a foggy morning
    I listen to my heart as it cries for
    the brokenness of our world and
    offer a prayer as tears flow from my soul

    may we awake to the nurturing embrace of love
    may we awake to the healing touch of compassion
    may we awake to the needs of the oppressed
    may we awake to the gift of forgiveness

    ms

    It is a cold morning here in Colorado. A heavy ice storm yesterday morning followed by a light snow all day and cold temperatures has made it poor traveling. I received a notification yesterday that the city of Fort Collins was on an accident alert and the bus system was on a delayed and shortened schedule. Expecting some sunshine this afternoon and will clean off the snow and 1/10th of an inch of ice from my car. I have not been outside my condo for over 48 hours. Feels strange.

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  • poems,  poetry,  quotes

    Connected to all things

    December 26, 2021
    Colorado sunrise from October of 2005

    If we look at the Path, we do not
    see the Sky..

    We are Earth People on a
    Spiritual Journey through the Stars..

    Our Quest, our Earth Walk..
    is to look within,
    to know who we are,
    to see that we are connected
    to all things, that there is no separation,
    only in the mind!

    Lakota Seer

    As a young man I spent a lot of time in nature which included walking and riding a bicycle almost everywhere. I spent almost no time in front of a television. I am grateful for that childhood. At some point I attained the coveted drivers license and life took on a new direction. I did less walking and driving and less time in nature. I then began chasing a career that put me in front of a computer, within a cubicle and less time in nature. I began to spend less and less time in nature to the point where I lost a connection to nature. I viewed it as separate from me. More than 20 years ago there was a shift in seeing that we are connected to all things. Getting back into photography and practicing a spiritual life were key elements in that shift. There is a desire within me to have more of that connection and thus the reason this poem strikes a chord with me.

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  • poems,  poetry

    To Pray

    December 12, 2021
    Predawn along Peralta Trail just east of Gold Canyon, Arizona, April 2014

    To pray you open your whole self
    To sky, to earth, to sun, to moon
    To one whole voice that is you
    And know there is more
    That you can’t see, can’t hear
    Can’t know except in moments
    Steadily growing, and in languages
    That aren’t always sound but other
    Circles of motion.
    Like eagle that Sunday morning
    Over Salt River. Circled in blue sky
    In wind, swept our hearts clean
    With sacred wings.
    We see you, see ourselves and know
    That we must take the utmost care
    And kindness in all things.
    Breathe in, knowing we are made of
    All this, and breathe, knowing
    We are truly blessed because we
    Were born, and die soon within a
    True circle of motion,
    Like eagle rounding out the morning
    Inside us.
    We pray that it will be done
    In beauty.
    In beauty.

    Joy Harjo

    If you’re interested you can listen to Joy Harjo recite the Eagle Poem here.

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