March: Day Twenty-five

I awaken to the sound of the birds

rustling in the bushes beneath 

my bedroom window, their 

chirps soft as a whisper.

Wake up, little ones, 

I imagine they are saying,

and in that moment, I include

myself in their family.

Sometimes - often - my first thoughts

upon awakening are fear for 

what the day might bring.

The sweet sounds of these little birds, 

well-hidden in the bush but

still vulnerable to all out there

that might do them harm, 

awakening nevertheless with

such sweet chatter, softens my fear, 

and I arise to greet the day with them. 

March: Day Eighteen

 

A garden is not just an arrangement of

flowers, it is a peek into the creative soul

of the gardener, their hopes and dreams

and what they loved.

March: Day Twelve

Dark Clouds over Sedona

September 2017

Often, I do not think that I am

up to what is being asked of me

So all I can do is keep going and 

do my best and sometimes

it's not very good but it's

all that I can do.

And surprisingly often, it

somehow turns out to be enough.

March: Day Nine

Just enough

is all I need

enough work

enough play

enough to live on

and still be generous

enough time alone

and enough time with friends

enough fresh air 

and sunshine

enough sleep

and enough exercise 

enough coffee and croissants

just enough of everything

and not too much of

anything

Just enough

March: Day Five

Two days ago

I raked away the oak leaves

piled at the bottom of 

a small tree in the front yard

and today that little tree

has sprouted sweet

yellow blooms.

I do not know that I

can claim credit,

but secretly 

I do.

March: Day One

 

Whispers of Spring

A shift of light 

through branches bare

the difference slight

 yet surely there

The birdsong's cheer

 a bit more bright

the sky more clear,

the air feels light

I have no proof of anything,

yet, sure I'm not imagining

that Mother Earth is whispering,

Soon Spring

Soon Spring

Soon Spring