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?

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

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. 

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

 

 

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.

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.

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.

Small stone: January 17, 2012

Winter, late afternoon.

His slow steps,

almost a shuffle,

walking stick tapping.

Park benches empty.

Remembering summer?

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.