An Open Hand

Big Organizations offering help are scattered all over the place with ribbons, buttons and walks for the cure.

 

An organization, the wish of one young woman to give back to community touched my heart. 

In an empty parking lot, 

one table with boxes 

of homemade soup, 

     pudding, 

       sandwiches,

         bannock

   apples

   water

We filled bags

welcomed hungry people

    on foot

     bicycles,

      small families

in need of a meal. 

No papers to sign

   No proof of need

A small group of family and friends 

gathered round this young woman

in support of her wish to give back 

Her gift has not gone unnoticed, 

but those she aided today with 

her homemade soup will not 

know her, or her reasons why. 

Giving with an open hand and open heart was all.

“Tenderness and kindness are not signs of weakness 

and despair, but manifestations of strength and resolution.”

~ Kahlil Gibran

The Trees Know

The trees know 

of water and wind

of changing seasons

Keeping their roots 

in the dark

the trees know

to conserve water

to bring forth a new shoot

to settle into change

The trees know 

of water and wind 

of changing seasons.

“Do like trees: change the leaves, but keep the roots. 

So change your ideas, but keep your principles.”

~ Victor Hugo

Clouds and Wind

My cell phone's digital images seldom report the images that my eyes see ~ the elegant grandeur of clouds that fling their grey capes over the city; collaring the blue sky to 

choke off the sunlight. But they don’t have a mirror in the water today because their windy cousin has stirred the lake so images are choppy with a few white fringes. 

Neither one listening to the other in this 

tug of war between the two giants of the 

world, no one winning today's contest. 

The clouds will just keep moving on and 

the wind will either keep blowing its own

horn or fade away in the night.

“The seasons do not push one another; neither do clouds race 

the wind across the sky, All things happen in their own good time.”

~ Dan Millman, author

On a Late Afternoon Outing

Kiwanis Waterfall Park area

When I returned to Regina in July 2020 during the COVID pandemic, one of the first places I turned to was the Regina Newcomers Club. My first meetings and group activities were over Zoom, except for the walking group. That we were still able to do in Wascana Park by keeping our distance from each other but walking as a group. The membership is still relatively low, but is recovering with the hard work of board members and the general membership. 

This evening we celebrated the group’s 60 year presence in Regina. The weather was cloudy, windy and threatened rain, but that did not stop us. We brought our folding chairs to the Kiwanis Waterfall Park for fellowship, hamburgers, salads and cake. A small group of us played a round of Bocce Ball with no rules. In general we visited, sharing family news, travels and plan for the winter. The wind did slow down, the clouds thinned, the sun escaped the clouds as it set. When the food came out, so did the wasps. It turned out to be a lovely evening and I’m glad that I joined this group of women. 

“I love meeting new people.”

~ Anne Burrell, chef

The Art of Politics

To listen to the rhetoric 

of politicians

is daunting

truth hidden in a 

cacophony of words. 

“Rhetoric is the art of ruling the minds of men.”

~ Plato

From my Balcony

Listening to the hum of air conditioners on a hot summer 

night challenges me to go for a walk. But not in the city. 

On a distant prairie road, when the dust of tractors 

and grain trucks has settled, leaving behind the call of 

a night owl and the vanishing 

whistle of a steam engine pulling 

brightly lit passenger cars. As dusk softens 

day into night, billions of stars shower 

this quiet world, bowing to a brilliant moon. 

In truth, I may not have been allowed to go 

walking on my own at night, so I cherish 

this fragment of imagined memory.

“She knew with suddenness and ease that this moment 

would be with her always, within hand’s reach of memory.”

~ Stephen King, Carrie

Waspish

Photo from website:
ecoguardpestmanagment.com

It was probably as surprised as I was. After all the waving of a yellow flag, merely my napkin, did not make sense to the wasp. Not a flower, but annoying. 

When the tip caught its little rump, it zipped past me, and on the way by, thrust its tiny dagger into my left thumb. Except for the sudden prick of pain,

I thought nothing of it until slowly, steadily my thumb blossomed red, the back of 

my hand puffed up like bread rising. 

I could only hope that the wasp was satisfied 

with it’s little fly-by shot of venom. 

“If I be waspish, best beware my sting,”

~ William Shakespeare,

 The Taming of the Shrew