Imagine

Imagine

A world without war

A home without strife

A gun without ammunition

A voice without disdain

A message without scorn

Imagine

A life without hate

A storm without destruction

A highway without collisions

A field without ticks

A rose without thorns.

There are moments

There are places

There are chapters of our lives

When we can imagine

As our path is smooth, our waters placid.

In these times

We give thanks.

Gratitude not guilt.

We give thanks

And absorb the peace we experience

So as to share

To drop our pebble of peace

And lend ripples

To the ocean of the world.

Then there are moments

When, despite the pain

Despite the suffering and destruction

Which swirl around

We still know peace

We hold tightly to that kernel

Of light, hope and love

Which resides

Deep within

Yet fills our being

Quietly, with certainty.

This peace we find

Can also be dropped into the pond.

Pebbles of compassion

Create ripples of love

A healing salve for our troubled world.

Imagine.

Autumn Garden


As I look out over the autumn garden
Sadness clings to me
Like the petals of the fading marigolds
Time for bed
Life cannot go on without rest

I whisper my thanks
As I place a layer of mulched leaves
Giving cover to the tired soil
I give thanks for our summer mornings together
Me observing the growth
Helping in any way possible
Removing dead leaves,
Picking off dangerous insects
Awed by the mystery
Witnessing seedling, once seed, take root and flourish
Soil offering all it has,
Rain giving sustenance.
Me, supplementing when needed
Thankful for clean water
And my dad’s hose.

But today,
The freezer is stocked
The Ball jars filled and sealed
And the last of the tomatoes
Are ripening on their tray
As the woodstove takes away
The autumn chill

Water will not restore health
Soil cannot nurture the dying plants
The season has ended.

With gratitude for all the meals,
All the joy
I whisper my thanks to the garden
As I bid it adieu and good night!

The Gift of Trees


I admire trees
The manner in which they bend
As winds howl through
And what once seemed immobile
Sways like a dancer
Moving to and fro with grace
In choreographed precision
With the forest of partners 
In its company

I admire trees
The way they stand proudly
Naked, grey, their true winter selves
Reaching for the sky 
Ready to bend without notice
Housing insects and birds
Giving homes for free
Arms always reaching out
Open and inviting

I admire trees
Drinking deeply 
Through their anchored roots
Sending messages within the ground
They survive
Even thrive
And offer gifts
Their fruits nourishing the world
Their shade given in the summer’s heat
Their toes holding earth
Keeping erosion at bay
Their sap sweetening life

I admire trees
Evergreens, oaks, birch, maple, elm, and beech
The list goes on 
They live together
Harmoniously
Creating forest abode
For creatures of the land and sky
They drop their leaves at season’s end
Nurturing soil beneath
Without complaint 
They pass through the seasons
Death, Rebirth, Creative Life, Waning Days
The cycle repeats
As apparent death holds life within

I admire trees
They teach me to trust
There is more to life
Than my eyes behold.

Shattered Silence

Sitting on cool granite
Sun streaming warmth upon me
Capturing an image of a stalwart baby pine
Relishing the peace
The beauty
The generous gifts of nature
 I drink deeply of healing mountain air

Startled then
Panting
Rapid panting
A warm body pressed against my back
Wetness now on the back of my arm
Twisting my neck 
Only to see a snout,
Brindle coat wrapped tightly
Encasing protruding ribs

She was not seeking attention in the way of other dogs
But neither was she acting aggressively
She just kept returning
Seemingly wanting proximity
Remaining nearby
A black lab joined her
Antennae attached to a collar
Hip bones visible through midnight coat
Panting

Asking for what?
Petting seems foreign to them both
Neither good nor bad 
Not insisting upon nor rejecting
 They remain nearby
The lab choosing to squeeze between my friend’s chair and mine
Again, and again.
Choosing confined space 
Over the open acres surrounding us on this mountain

Eventually she responds to touch
Leaning in, asking for more
Shyly though

Garmin collars banded around their necks
Working dogs
Digging into wet soil
Seeking refreshment


A truck barrels up the mountain road
Our companions respond to a whistle
Back to work


Be safe my new friends
Be safe

Shattered Silence
Saddened Soul

Did they feel love?
If only for a moment
Did they know love?

Little Pine

Hey, little pine tree!
Growing here upon this granite outcropping
Stretching up toward the sun
Surviving the wind
Thriving despite imperfect soil

A beautiful display 
Of luscious green
Bending gently with the wind
Your branches speak of strength
Sturdiness and resilience

Hey little pine tree!
What lessons might I learn
If I but pay attention?

The Viburnum


My dad kept popping up in my thoughts
I was planning a summer picnic
More than once, when asked who was coming
I included my dad.
In fact, I said, 
“And, of course, dad!”
The summer family picnic
Was always held in August 
To celebrate dad’s birthday
He loved the get togethers in his honor

I was not the only one being “visited”
Tom and I were watching a favorite show
When he said, 
“We’ll have to call your dad 
And tell him there is a new season of Father Brown!”
Whoops! 
Dad had been gone for over a year.
So, it was fitting what came to the Viburnum

A Viburnum grows just outside the kitchen window
It is my favorite of all our bushes
In the spring, the delicate white flowers bloom
And a beautiful scent wafts into the kitchen
Sweet, while complex
I so enjoy it as I stand at the sink
Or walk by on the sidewalk

This gift of nature only lasts a couple of weeks
But I anticipate it 
From the first arrival of the tiny green shoots.

The beloved Viburnum offers more than beauty
More than its stunning aroma
It is the staging bush for our feathered friends
Each fall, a chickadee alights upon a branch right outside the window
He calls to me until I take notice
Asking that I fill the feeder
We argue every year
I am certain the bears are still awake
He is indignant
The pickings are getting slimmer as the cold sets in
He wants those black sunflower seeds!

However, in August
There are no feeders out
The Viburnum often sits empty
But not that afternoon
As I stood soaping the pans,
My eye caught movement in the bush
The male cardinal!

He looked in the window at me
Lovingly, I swear, lovingly
Filled with joy, but ever demanding
I silently asked,
“Why don’t you ever bring mom?” 
Further movement a couple of branches away
Drew my attention
There she sat
In all her female bird subdued beauty
Pale brown with warm reddish tinges in the wings, tail and crest
Black face and red-orange bill
She gazed in the window
Looking back into those deep eyes

My heart lifted further 
As, filled with love and gratitude
Tears dropping into the dishwater
I gave thanks
“You brought her!
You are together”

Alleluia!

Choices

The sky beckons 
My gaze upward
The pillows of white
Invite comfort
Invite peace

The blue calls out clarity
Purity
Fragility
The sky beckons 
My gaze upward

The cascading water
Calls out adventure
Join the fun
Take the plunge

The waters
Join, merge
As they frolic
Down the riverbed
Cool, refreshing
Rushing along
Going somewhere
Jump in for the ride

Which way to turn?

Tears Unbidden

A few times
Maybe more than a few
Okay, a big handful of times
Tears have come unbidden
They have flowed recklessly
Defying my commands
Unhidden by my wiping hands
They have poured out
From a place deeper 
Than my mind
Beyond my reach.

Tears of the Spirit.
9/11 Memorial Service
The first responders 
Dressed in their finest
Police, Fire, EMTs
NH Towns from all over
And, running in,
A bit late
Filling the void in the back row
Even NYPD.

At my first sight of the solemn columns of blue
Coming forward in step
Silently marching in
Filling in the emptied bay
In the Firehouse garage
Facing the children 
Who are readying their speeches
Their song
Their recitation of the National Anthem.


These representatives of the heroes
The people who emboided love
and walked into 
The burning towers that day
And still every day
To save others
Whom they do not even know.

It was the beauty of that love
The caring for fellow humans
NYC opening its heart

All that and more
That called forth my tears
Beyond words
But not beyond the language of tears.

The program had ended
I thought the tears were over, 
Then I glanced down
And beheld
The black electrician’s tape
Holding on the sole
Of the patent leather shoe.

The soul held on by tape.
How fragile, how vulnerable
How humble
How human.

Sunrise on Little Sunapee

Sunrise on Little Sunapee

Each morning
Everywhere
It gently, slowly appears
Over the eastern horizon
Glowing faintly at first
A mere hint
Of what is to come
As it begins to
Illuminate the receding night sky.

Hope appears in much the same manner
Nudges which are barely detected
Glimmers seen, then not
Little surges of excitement
Barely acknowledged
Fearing they are not real, will not last.

But as we wait
And watch
In the reverence of morning
As birds awaken
And chirp their greetings and
The mist races across 
The mirrored surface of the lake
A refreshing chill is offered by the morning breeze
As the faint glow expands,
An orange globe
Announces the day
The sky applauds with color
The clouds decorate the heavens
And it is
All reflected in the quiet of the resting lake

Hope can be found in each new day
As the fish jump for joy
The spillway bubbles its mirth and
The mist rises as the warming rays reach down.

Listen
Be still
Receive the message
Of the morning sky.








	


	





	

		
They Ask Permission
	


	
	

		













They Ask Permission















Six of them





Joined as a team





United by their orange shirts





They encircle the kayaker





Standing at the ready





“Let us know how we may help.”
“I don’t know.”





“I am right behind you





You are safe.”















“Wow, that was easy.”





She rejoices after landing gently





Upon the kayak seat.





The orange shirt people stand by





And smile





Surrounding her with





What looks and feels like love





And support.





“May I reach in and adjust the foot pegs for you?”





Nobody is rushing.





One man holds down the bow





Patiently





He squats on knees that have traveled





A good few decades





Patiently





His dimples emerge as he smiles in response





To her sincere





“Thank you!”















Pontoons in place





They add other adaptive equipment





Adjusting





Inflating, deflating





Adding, removing





Patiently





Squatting man stands





Hands of power remain, though, at work





Adding ballast to the bow.















The kayak is wheeled into the lake





Broad smile illuminating the world, she rejoices,





“Oh, it’s so nice to be in the water!”





Her team reflects back her beaming countenance.





“I used to be a lifeguard.”  She shares.





But now her legs





Do not support her





But love does





Patient, kind, respectful love.















They ask permission





They surround her with love





They make the impossible, possible.















This is the world I choose to see





These are the people I admire.