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At the water’s edge
On the edge of the pond Water does not resist. Water flows. When you plunge your hand into it, all you feel is a caress. Water is not a solid wall, it will not stop you. But water always goes where...
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Charmed
The neighbor’s tree In life one has a choice to take one of two paths: to wait for some special day — or to celebrate each special day. ~ Rasheed Ogunlaru Color in the garden Cultivate the habit of...
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The frost fairies were here this morning
Sap-cicles at sunrise Our consciousness rarely registers the beginning of a growth within us any more than without us; there have been many circulations of the sap before we detect the smallest sign of...
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Herald of spring
Electric crocuses Spring drew on… and a greenness grew over those brown [garden] beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter...
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Liquid
Liquid reflections It is the city of mirrors, the city of mirages, at once solid and liquid, at once air and stone. ~ Erica Jong Today’s Capture Your 365 prompt is Liquid. You can find plenty of...
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Anahata
The elusive clover Green is the prime color of the world, and that from which its loveliness arises. ~ Pedro Calderon de la Barca, Spanish Poet and Playright, 1600-1681 Shamrock (or Clover) is the...
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Balance
Balanced between winter and spring. Frosty oak leaves. Your hand opens and closes, opens and closes. If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralysed. Your deepest presence...
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Thursday Travels: Picnic
A stop along the Cabot Trail. Cape Breton Highlands National Park. Nova Scotia. (8 June 2012) Soon they were all sitting on the rocky ledge, which was still warm, watching the sun go down into the...
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Flower dreams
Blossoms on High Street in West Chester, Pennsylvania. (April 2007) In my dreams, I never have an age. ~ Madeleine L’Engle Last night (well, really it was early this morning) I had a dream that was...
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In between
The tulips are coming up Beginnings are sudden, but also insidious. They creep up on you sideways, they keep to the shadows, they lurk unrecognized. Then, later, they spring. ~ Margaret Atwood, The...
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