“I always think that the best way to know God is to love many things.” ~ Vincent van Gogh

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Visiting Crystal Creek

Not far out of town, the rainforest still edges roads and covers hills.   

I pull over, close my eyes, meditate ... falling leaves hit my car, thump.

#American Sentences (a 17-syllable alternative to haiku, devised by Allen Ginsberg.)

Monday, August 26, 2013

Letting the Garden Go

 I have let my garden beds go to weeds. Interesting that the weeds they grow are different. One is full of spreading ferns, and bushy plants with wide, glossy leaves. The other is occupied by low ground cover with tiny leaves, from which the aloe vera plant — not a weed — stands up tall and spiky.

Thursday, August 22, 2013

Tuesday, August 20, 2013

Netting the moon

I look up at the full moon through a cobweb shining from roof to tree.

Winter Flowers

The winter flowers on the vine are orange, the colour of both trauma and joy (in Colour Healing). There are few left as winter ends. It has been a winter of trauma and joy, reliving the last, when Andrew began his dying, finally making his transition at the beginning of Spring. I pull a Tarot card from the Wildwood deck. The fire in the centre has bright orange flames. The card is called Abundance, meaning reward after long struggle.

Friday, August 9, 2013

August Wind

August wind.
Each year I forget
until it begins.

A sudden flurry.
'Is that rain?' I think,
but it's not. It's the air 
stirring, no longer inert.

It wakes with a rush —
excitement or dread? —
and the blood responds.

Submitted for Poets United's Verse First ~ Difficulty. The challenge is: Write a poem, no more than three stanzas, that is completely free of "gratuitous, show-offy, camouflaging" text. 

Sunday, August 4, 2013

She Seems Unaware

She seems unaware of the bleeding, but
at times her eyes glaze; I think
she's moving away, starting
not to be here.