Days Inn

Days What are days for? Days are where we live. They come, they wake us Time and time over. They are to be happy in: Where can we live but days? Ah, solving that question Brings the priest and the doctor In their long coats Running over the fields. Philip Larkin “Days” from Collected Poems. […]

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Above the mountains the geese turn into the light again Painting their black silhouettes on an open sky. Sometimes everything has to be inscribed across the heavens so you can find the one line already written inside you. Sometimes it takes a great sky to find that first, bright and indescribable wedge of freedom in […]

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the lives of trees

Blue paint on black white feathers and green leaves. Touchingly separate but still connected. Rollingly wrapped  in wood grain and bark. Noticing words  Inside the Tree Exhibit… and downward diamond’s gazing eyes.

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first step

This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First let go of life. Finally, to take a step without feet. Rumi

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blue and red

Between… spirit and matter… a blue painted feather. Flying red… paper worlds and words not read 2 birds. “…think of the bird as a teacher.  Approach it with curiosity and patience, as if it were the most important thing right now.  you do not have to worry about getting it to do something.  The bird […]

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blue jays and things

      There is something I don’t know That I am supposed to know. I don’t know what it is I don’t know, And yet am supposed to know, And I feel I look stupid If I seem both not to know And not to know what it is I don’t know. Therefore, I […]

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Wondering about Wonder

What is the greatest gift? What is the greatest gift? Could it be the world itself — the oceans, the meadowlark, the patience of the trees in the wind? Could it be love, with its sweet clamor of passion? Something else — something else entirely holds me in thrall. That you have a life that […]

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