Hello again!


It's been a long time since my last post...nine months, I think. So where have I been? I ask myself the same question and upon re-reading my journal from 2010 I came upon something I wrote December 1, 2010.

"...It's been months since I've added anything to this space. I've been so busy living my life I've scarcely had any time to reflect. Moreover, I find when the seasons beckon me to be outside busily engaged with all that needs doing and tending I find I am not circumspect. My attention is not inward, but outward and in the moment. Yet by now, really the last twenty-four hours, the leaves have really all come down leaving the dark branches beautifully etched against the sky and the descending darkness. We are headed into the dark quiet of the year, the time of short days and long nights. As much as I resist the gravity pull of this transition into the dark, the cold and the wind I do savor it as a punctuation, a counterpoint to the many months of sunny blue skies, sandals and short sleeves, green garden lushness over flowing from the ground and the growing beds."

A few days later, January 5, I wrote this poem.

By now all the leaves have fallen,

branches are bare and thin

against the descending darkness.

The sky at 5 p.m. is dark and somber,

clouds slowly move from northwest to south east,

hints of sun lite orange illuminate the tree line.

Five young deer emerge slowly from the hedgerow,

tentative at first,minutes later, in full view.

The dogs growl softly from the window.

So silent. So peaceful. So powerful.

Moments later as I glance up,

the contrasting darks and lights in the sky

take my breath away.

This pageantry is so startling

I shall never grow accustomed

to the early winter beauty.

January 22, 2011

A month past the Solstice,

we are in deep winter.

The darkness...short days,compacted living,

time to return to our roots,

to essence, bare bones,

pure potential- and simply rest there.

The silence is so loud it rings in my ears.

Each moment resembles the one that came before and after,

yet-the river is steadily moving beneath us-

making its silent path forward.

Sitting here in the growing darkness

I feel so filled up

about to burst with each passing moment,

yet empty as the New Year stretches out -

a wide chasm to be filled.

Dusk draws me to pen and paper,

words issue forth, spilling out,

sorry that I am such a bad poet,

yet no matter,the sky does not mind,

nor the branches,nor the hard ground.

I am grateful for the audience

that calls forth my inner longings,

the leanings of a soul forever content,

and restless enough to swallow the world whole.