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To Breathe Again. . .
Dog Days of The Lion When at the end of the dog days of the Lion and the garden is again conducive to prayer, arrange the knees bent in homage to the winter. It is time to pray the garden into being; the stage for the winter solstice. It is time to oil the tools…
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One World At a Time. . .
One World At A Time. . . The grounds are silent. I am here in the catacombs and yearning for words to frame my time. I enter the gleanings of my heart. Hear O’Lord, my bayings as the old wolf in the field, trying to awaken the Mind; as the old One mourned, that has…
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Considered Opinion. . . All Connected. . .
Considered Opinion, all Connected. . . It is good to see the best in people but one cannot be accountable for everyone. One cannot wish them onto a platform they are not an example for. ****** Too many children grow up knowing the failures of their parents and think their own fabric is torn.…
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August. . .
August It is August and there is a sliver of breath inside the sill. The deep breath of Autumn is, I think, a matter of time; perhaps only in the memory of the child anxious for the world of new books to open. Anxious for the toys of summer to be put aside to make…
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Thoughts Brought To The Table. . . .
Eternal is the hour which grants the heart time. Sacred is the vessel which yields the cup. ***** Life lived on a part time basis is for some more than enough to handle. ***** There is no talent which will be left unused and no path of interest unexplored. ***** There is sufficient time for…
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My Sister, My Earth. . . .
My Sister, My Earth. . . Like a compass, I stand, breathing deep and at the end of my arm stands the ancient city and at the top of my head the north wind still blows. Cooler by far during the last month of the year but still refreshing. How to love this Earth whose…
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The Pain of Thought. . .
The Pain of Thought. . . They speak with their doctors, their counselors and those with backward collars that they are anxious. And cannot explain the panic and the night sweats that engulf them even in their sleep. They read they say all manner of books and articles on positive thinking and watch only those…
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Comforts . . .
Comforts. . . There is a comfort in being surrounded by familiar things. After a lifetime of use, they are as old friends needing only me as a companion. My books follow my travels begging not to be left behind. Only those I have visited often can lay claim to shrinking space. My tablets, journals, …
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Process of Change. . .
I had just put the dog out and as she limped I thought it did not take away from her exuberance in the moment. We often think our present problem spoils everything. It will if we allow it to. We can learn to overlook or look over the problem, physical or otherwise to see that…
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No Space To Grow Bread. . .
No Space To Grow Bread. . . They are young, you say, with hormones raging in bodies having no desire for libraries and no entry monies for museums. . . In these places where soldiers in perilous times are forever sowing seeds of freedom, with farmers tilling soil of rocks and clay to feed the…