Skip to main content

Posts

Showing posts from June, 2018

mesmerized by bird netting

Green was the silence, wet was the light, the month of June trembled like a butterfly.  - Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

She sat
Mesmerized by bird netting
Dropped over the garden and fruit trees
It glistened in the sun and moved gracefully in the breeze
So did the leaves on the pear tree
Morning gentleness as birds made known the day
Along with the quaking sound of Aspen

Her coffee cup empty
With a stained ring and splash down the side
Notebook and pen left untouched
She stood to tend pots of pink geraniums
A train horn sounded from somewhere
The neighbor's dog barked
Her brown dog lay quietly by the purple table 

Brushing hair out of her face
Worn hands on her hips, she took stock of her ward and smiled



Morning is my time for prayer, meditation and basically waking myself up to the day. I like it quiet and undisturbed. No voices. No talking. No answering. Simply quiet and undisturbed.

In the summer, I find one of our Adirondack chairs to be the perfect spot. They sit away from the house against …

dust

Living in Central Oregon, one becomes accustomed to living with dust. Our semi-arid climate has a sandy, powder-like soil which appears to grow rocks.

How do you grow rocks? I don't know, but it happens. 
When I'm cleaning and dusting for the umpteenth time I don't recognize dust for the artistry it can become. Beauty is and always has been created from dust. Pottery, paint and even facial treatments come from dust. And we don't think a thing about slapping a mud mask on to tighten our pours or take care of a bee sting.

I asked myself an elementary question: What does dust do?

it clings and covers       blows around seeps in cracks and crevises                          permeates it stays and is ever-present       dust is not a respecter of objects it collects, hides       fine, gritty, powder-like in the air     on faces and boots feet and hands             surfaces, plants and trees dust is
As soon as dust lands, it's blown elsewhere or washed away. Wouldn't it be mind-alte…