waking

                how small the day is the time of colors the rush of brightness ~ W. S. Merwin              

snake in the grass

          was it too late to reinvent to shed her skin and start again?                

spring cleaning

        she lays it on her bed runs her fingers over the delicate spring flowers fresh new sparkling green and gold in the warm sun   while driving to the Salvation Army she imagines autumn will be a better fit            

density

                “Magic doesn’t sweep you away; it gathers you up into the body of the present moment so thoroughly that all your explanations fall away: the ordinary, in all its plain and simple outrageousness, begins to shine – to become luminously, impossible so.  Every facet of the world is awake, and you within it.   The deeper…

praise

      Praise the light of late November, the thin sunlight that goes deep in the bones. Praise the crows chattering in the oak trees; though they are clothed in night, they do not despair. Praise what little there’s left: the small boats of milkweed pods, husks, hulls, shells, the architecture of trees. Praise the meadow of dried weeds: yarrow, goldenrod, chicory, the…