February: Day Twenty-five

Monument Valley

September 2017

Accept

Bless

Release

Surrender

Accept

Bless 

Release 

Surrender

Accept

Bless 

Release

Surrender

February: Day Twenty-three

Beaumaris, Anglesey, Wales

September 2012

I am in a place called limbo,

where it seems like nothing 

is happening and yet,

I have a feeling that somehow,

everything is happening

and I just haven't gotten

the memo,

and suddenly, sometime soon,

nothing

will be the same, 

like when

the Berlin Wall came down

and we never saw it coming.

February: Day Twenty-two

If I knew that I would die today,

or soon,

I would not worry about

where to live, or

the view from my window,

or the fallen branches in the yard,

or money.

I would let it be all right

to watch the birds at the feeder,

and talk to them, and thank them

for coming, to pick up the branches

and lay them gently in a pile

at the side of the yard,

and go down to the sea,

take off my shoes, and walk

barefoot in the sand, even though

it is February,

and say

thank you, thank you, thank you,

for everything.

February: Day Twenty-one

There is something delicious

in yearning, in longing,

in that slightly discontented, 

slightly tingly impatience

that is anticipation.

So often I have tried to soothe - 

even to extinguish - 

my longing 

with getting, having, 

achieving, going, 

doing - 

only to find myself

missing the anticipation 

and yearning

to yearn

again

 

February: Day Twenty

Happy Birthday, Dad

In his element

2/20/1923 - 10/31/2009

 

February: Day Eighteen

Last night the wind roared

like the ocean

and we lost power and I feared

for the house to go cold

and pipes to freeze and

all manner of catastrophes to follow,

and prayed for the wind to die down, while

memories of a different storm welled up,

one that pounded for hours and

nearly took our roof,

and anxious thoughts swirled and

made my heart catch on every beat

as I repeated please stop, please stop,

but the house was solid against the wind 

and we huddled beneath extra blankets 

for warmth and then, suddenly,

the light came on and, finally, I slept.

It's morning now and the sun 

is shining and the wind still

roaring but not as threatening 

as in the dark of night,

and a squirrel just scampered

through the front yard

with a mouthful of oak leaves 

and the birds are at the feeder

as if nothing has happened at all

February: Day Fifteen

 

Seeing a tulip bloom

 

on my windowsill

in mid-February

is like

seeing the sun

come out

after a week

of rain

February: Day Twelve

I

 want to walk

in bare feet 

through coarse, thick sand

I want to breathe cool salt air

and feel warm sunshine caress

my face, my body shifting

deliciously between 

cool, warm,

warm, cool

I want to delight

in the antics 

of gulls who

mistakenly think

I might feed 

them, 

their sly approach

and side-eye glances

as if I can't see them

sneaking up on me

I want

the rhythm of waves

to lull me to sleep

in my beach chair

and all knowledge

of the world is

gone and gone and gone

February: Day Ten

Hubbard's Cove, Nova Scotia

July 2012

When the sun comes out

it can feel like

all the lights 

have been turned

back on

February: Day Nine

Awaken this morning

to a snowy landscape 

Open your senses and go outside

Smell the crisp scent of silence

Taste the cold on your tongue

Breathe in the beauty through your eyes

Feel the earth's contented sigh

Hear its joy as it receives 

Mother Nature's gift

February: Day Seven

When I was small

and it snowed

I made a snowball

and went sledding

That's all I want to say

February: Day Five

Near Peggy's Cove, Nova Scotia

2012

What if I greeted

this day with a smile

and the belief that 

something wonderful

will happen

instead of this frown

and a mind busy

with thoughts of

how to ward off

all the things that

might go wrong?

February: Day Three

Perhaps today

it would be all right

to do not much of anything

all day

No one is watching

no one is judging me -

except for me, and

I am giving the

judge the day off

February Day One

Quebec City, outside the Frontenac

August 2012

 I cannot guarantee

that there will not be

catastrophes

I cannot say that 

it will not rain on

my picnic 

or that

tears will not flow

But I do know that today

there is 

love  and friendship

kindness and caring

laughter and sharing

music and dancing

and it is up to

me to open up

the door

and let 

it in