Weather to Worry

Pacing ~

Worry could make frantic

ups and down hallways and

around in circles of gloom

Or

Pacing ~

worry could be calmed 

by the soft fall of raindrops

falling from a grey gauzy sky. 

“Adopt the pace of nature: her secret is patience”

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Two Steps

Stepping back from the

magnificent fountains of 

knowledge and details into 

the numinous ground of

intuition and memory 

can be an act both 

courageous and brave.

Stepping onto the 

bridge that spans both worlds

can bring them together

adding depth, colour and humanity

to cold and damp facts that

are scribed on onion skin paper 

in heavy books of great knowledge.

“When you reach the end of what you should know, 

you will be at the beginning of what you should sense.”

~ Kahlil Gibran

Silent Senses

Standing silently outside

I saw

Bees floating 

Flower to flower

Standing silently outside

I felt

Warm sun bare arms

Cool breeze ruffling my hair

Standing silently outside

I tasted

Slender beans

Tucked in leafy shadows

Standing silently outside

I heard

Gulls crying

From the rooftops

Standing silently outside

I smelled

Tall grasses drying

In the lengthening summer air.

Standing silently outside

My heart softened and grew strong.

“…and then I have nature and art and poetry, 

and if that is not enough, what is enough?”

~ Vincent Willem van Gogh

To Drift and Settle

Like a leaf 

Drifting down and down

Like the fog

Settling into bush and tree

My mood

Drifts and settles quietly

Uplifted by

The easy flow of breath and movement

Like a leaf

That settles to the earth

Like the fog

That lifts up and away

My mood

Settles into contentment

Uplifted by 

The beautiful music of life.

“Embrace the glorious mess that you are,”

~ Elizabeth Gilbert

Smudges

Smudges

The old printer chugged along. One piece of paper after another. Clear black ink showed the words Mary Ann had just written on her not quite so old laptop. Her office was a disorganized helter skelter of stacks of papers, manuals and books, more papers, new and used pens and boxes of pencils. Mary Ann missed her grandmother's old print shop with the smell of ink, the little print dies for making up the town newspaper and smudges on her fingers. She had always wanted smudges on her fingers like her grandmother. Sometimes, she would just pick up the print dies to get ‘grandma hands’. Grandma had to wear a big in-smudged white apron to keep from getting her lovely house dresses in a mess. She would always take off her apron when she heard the tinkling of the bell over the old wooden door. The customer usually wanted a handbill printed up or a letter mailed. Her grandma’s print shop was also the post office for the small mountain town.

“Grandma, why don’t you buy a new printer! That one is so old. It’s got to be at least ten years old and it only prints. You could have a new one that faxes and scans and prints.” 

Joey, Mary Ann’s 13 year old grandson had come bounding through her front door and raced into her ‘office’. He was such a good boy and would have loved the old print shop. He loved new technology, but was also fascinated with anything old. 

"Well, Joey, I suppose I could get a new printer so it could do all of those things. It just might make a difference in this funny little room I call my office. It could send out mail almost the same as my grandma did when I was just a bit younger that you. I don’t know how to do all the faxing or scanning, but I can bet you’ll show me. We could go to a store on Saturday and get one so you could help me hook it up. What do you think?”

“And can we go for pizza, too?”

“Of course. Just ask your mom. Tell her we need a day out on the town so you can help me decide what to buy.”

“Grandma, just remember that when you change the ink, even on a new printer, you have got to be careful not to get the ink all over you. Look at your hands!”

Mary Ann smiled, hugged her wonderful grandson Joey and hoped that he hadn’t seen the little tear in her eye. She did have 'grandma hands' after all.

“Before printing was discovered, a century was equal to a thousand years.”

~ Henry David Thoreau

A Retirement Schedule

Rushed ~

only my own schedule

loose, flexible

until a time set with friends

Retirement ~

busy but not with busy work.

spending time with friends ~

A huge privilege!

Discussion ~

Outrageous and funny

Serious and offended

Definitely mature.

“Tis the privilege of friendship to talk nonsense

 and to have her nonsense respected.”

~ Charles Lamb

Whispers ~ 1

Long grasses rustle, 

honey coloured heads bent, as though in prayer.

daisy heads 

like sweet golden coins, 

whisper ‘autumn’s not long away’,

t’will pass quietly from 

the privilege of warm summer days into long and beautiful autumn.

“Give me juicy autumnal fruit ripe and red from the orchard,…”

Walt Whitman, “Give me the Splendid Silent Sun