I am going through trouble and sorrow just now. But one day as I leave the hospital, I find a huge, thick, shiny golden leaf on the bonnet of my car. I take it home carefully and put it in front of my picture of Brighid, Goddess of Poetry. Another day, as I go to unlock my car door for my trip to visit the hospital, I find a butterfly perched on the handle. I put a finger close to its nearest wing without touching, and it gently flutters to a branch just above. Nature, I decide, is sending me comfort.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Sunday, April 8, 2012
The Best Feeling in the World
Another blogger invited people to add to her list. Here are my nominations:
Breathing air that’s clean.
Cresting a hill and seeing the sparkling blue ocean.
Stepping out my front door, early after sunrise, on a beautiful autumn morning (such as today's).
Breathing air that’s clean.
Cresting a hill and seeing the sparkling blue ocean.
Stepping out my front door, early after sunrise, on a beautiful autumn morning (such as today's).
Sunday, March 25, 2012
Cool Autumn Morning
cool autumn morning
rain clouds edged
with remnants of dawn
the cats go out early
liking this lapse in the heat
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Monday, March 5, 2012
Leaf
(Written as a WordsFlow exercise 11 Nov. 2011 and just rediscovered.)
I found a brown leaf, curled and twisted, with one red spot on the front near the stem, and a little hole the other end, like a pinprick. Did an insect start to eat it and give up? Did it get damaged falling from the tree? What tree? The wind must have blown it quite a way. It has yellow spots too, very small, very faint, and the veins are strongly marked in darker brown. The underside is paler, more golden brown. The stem is only half as long as the leaf. It’s a graceful, pretty thing, scalloped, fluted, with a point at the tip. It’s ephemeral, isn’t it? If I take it home to keep forever, it will dry and fade and crumble and I’ll end up throwing it away. I’ll throw it away now, back to the air and the earth.
I found a brown leaf, curled and twisted, with one red spot on the front near the stem, and a little hole the other end, like a pinprick. Did an insect start to eat it and give up? Did it get damaged falling from the tree? What tree? The wind must have blown it quite a way. It has yellow spots too, very small, very faint, and the veins are strongly marked in darker brown. The underside is paler, more golden brown. The stem is only half as long as the leaf. It’s a graceful, pretty thing, scalloped, fluted, with a point at the tip. It’s ephemeral, isn’t it? If I take it home to keep forever, it will dry and fade and crumble and I’ll end up throwing it away. I’ll throw it away now, back to the air and the earth.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
I Open My Door
I open my door
to the wet world
morning after rain
the temperature now
cooling to autumn
even the near hills
are hidden by cloud
and the trees
in the still air
drip gently
Saturday, February 11, 2012
From the Clouds
From the clouds piled above the mountains
tendrils of light reach down into crevices,
long white fingers probing.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Monday, January 30, 2012
This Kaleidoscope
This kaleidoscope that Janet gave me
twenty years ago
has never left my desk —
whatever desk, in whatever house.
Tiny gold tube
in slim black drawstring bag
of hard-wearing felt
(more like charcoal grey by now)
it’s a miniature kaleidoscope,
designed for reminding me
of childhood dreams
with grown-up elegance.
I hold it to the light
and turn the end.
The coloured lumps of glass
tumble, forming flowers and stars.
twenty years ago
has never left my desk —
whatever desk, in whatever house.
Tiny gold tube
in slim black drawstring bag
of hard-wearing felt
(more like charcoal grey by now)
it’s a miniature kaleidoscope,
designed for reminding me
of childhood dreams
with grown-up elegance.
I hold it to the light
and turn the end.
The coloured lumps of glass
tumble, forming flowers and stars.
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