Spring Abundance

Slow, steady rain all day long fills potholes, Birdbaths and rain barrels. Between breaks from the rain, I planted basil, thyme, and red dahlias Lyn gave me next red tulips from Louise, And red zinnias from Alice. Tulips are gone by, lilac bush and columbines Are soaking up the rain under the grey sky, Flooding … Continue reading Spring Abundance

Remembering to Return

We remember the beginning and its beginning— The dance, birth, struggle, joy— Remembering how the grass sparkled in morning dew, Chipmunks pestering the birdfeed in the breeze That remembers yesterday’s howling wind That shook limbs and leaves of birches down Strewn across the fields. We remember what our mothers and fathers told us about our … Continue reading Remembering to Return

Am I listening?

Things are in and around me with the sounds of their being. Am I listening? Do I spend the time listening to their joy and plea? The potted hibiscus bloomed during the February arctic blast. Was I listening to their joy preparing for the opening ceremony? My inner chatterbox works overtime without compensation— Busy daily … Continue reading Am I listening?

Wing of Joy

In the frigid cold December whipping stiff winds, I scan the geography in the land of my ghosts Of diaspora longing for warmth and prayers That I don’t know how to recite and even their names.  I called them Oma (mom) and Hulmoni (grandma) Throughout my life and even now. We look for a place … Continue reading Wing of Joy

Dust

At 74, nearly three-quarters of a century old, I’m sitting in front of our charming, white wood stove. The flame dances, ignoring the outside temperature, 19 Erasing the winter in New England. My thoughts are floating, riding the inner current In the doldrums, the counter-current against the prevailing trade wind.  Our sailboat rocked, and the … Continue reading Dust

Bruised Mind

Be empty of wanton thoughts Of lifting the rusty anchor Buried in mud. Instead notice how the morning fog Lifts like eye lids, as the sun Peaks behind the hills. Notice how pine needles tremble As the jewels drop into The stream below. Notice how a chip monk freezes Standing on hind legs, And notice … Continue reading Bruised Mind