Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Small stone: January 31, 2012

The last day of January's River of Stones

It’s time to observe inwardly today.
Each January day has included a time for seeing
something different in my world.
Today, the search centers: how have I changed?





Monday, January 30, 2012

Small stone: January 30, 2012


Every morning meditation takes me
into that quiet forest where the breathing of the trees
is the essence and the quiet chirp of a bird
is awareness that my mind will move from silence
to action. How it moves will be today’s choice.


And then there crept a little noiseless noise among the leaves,
Born of the very sigh that silence heaves.

  – John Keats

Sunday, January 29, 2012

Small stone: January 29, 2012


A raven pair soaring
and swooping nearby hills and park
for much of the winter. Today,
an escort of several juveniles:
an unkindness of ravens




Saturday, January 28, 2012

Small stone: January 28, 2012


My journey of the small stones is about reflecting.
Overhead startlingly blue, but wind-shimmering water
fragments the moment.
A friend’s loving old dog mirrors affection,
whole and accurate.
Sky, water, human, dog.


Friday, January 27, 2012

Small stone: January 27, 2012


A friend slices the banana
into his cereal in unequal size bites.
Seems like lack of attention to proper order!
He says, “I like every bite to be a bit different.
Lesson learned.

Thursday, January 26, 2012

Small stone: January 26, 2012


Feeling unconnected and unobservant.
Walking past the cabinetmaker’s shop,
a primal scent: freshly cut oak.
I am suddenly present,
yet deeply in the past.
My Dad cutting wood.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

Small stone: January 25, 2012


Trees. Companions on this journey,
admiring how they survive.
Question this morning:
When is my bark protection, when a scar,
and when is it simply the outer part of me?


Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Small stone: January 24, 2012


A day in my head. Couldn’t avoid
seeing patterns everywhere
as I walked in the brief sun between storms.
Tried to find fractals and emergence
and all kinds of theoretical
stuff, but ended up with
Acacia and some sneezes.
Guess I am still in my head.

Monday, January 23, 2012

Small stone: January 23, 2012


It's often a struggle:
is my awareness important enough to share?
How wonderful that a music lover
thought to build a lake with small stones
and a swan for all who pass by this window.




Sunday, January 22, 2012

Small stone: January 22, 2012


Blustery day, gray skies.
Suddenly, a clutch of singing robins
swoop down from a huge, messy magnolia.
Our migratory friends make winter greener.
















Robins standing guard while a colleague feeds.


Saturday, January 21, 2012

Small stone: January 21, 2012

Simple awareness: I am blessed─
to be in a place where so many are welcome,
to hear voices I understand speaking languages that I don’t,
to know that we all have the same need to know─
even the most mundane: don’t touch wet paint.
 
 

Friday, January 20, 2012

Small stones: January 20, 2012

Red, crisp, fresh from the root cellar.
Picked just outside and stored for winter,
Simply to be a perfect treat.
Cut just so and arranged on her favorite plate.

Ah, grandmothers. How they care for us.
















Reality: organic from the locavore food store,
chilled in a California brushed-stainless steel Amana.
But, at this moment, she is here.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

Small stones: January 19, 2012


The earth and the trees are sighing.
Gentle, gentle rain,
the first in many weeks.
Hope for verdant Spring,
at last.




Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Small stone: January 18, 2012


Wikipedia,
says this lichen is brilliant yellow,
not dull green,
so that it can survive in bright light.
What a nourishing thought
on this gray day.


Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Small stone: January 17, 2012


Winter, late afternoon.
His slow steps,
almost a shuffle,
walking stick tapping.
Park benches empty.
Remembering summer?


Monday, January 16, 2012

Small stone: January 16, 2012


At the end of a wintry day,
a common miracle:
late afternoon light
embracing one windblown leaf.
Tomorrow may bring rain.


Sunday, January 15, 2012

Small stone: January 15, 2012


Some fire trucks in our city
are alarming red
and some are trusting burgundy.
I am surprised at color’s
often barely-noticed impact,
as I hurry through the day.

 

Saturday, January 14, 2012

Small stone: January 14, 2012


One tattered leaf,
the old remains.
Silvered branches
near bursting with new buds.
Restrain anticipation, friend,
it is mid-winter.