Mud, buds, and connection

Awaiting the budding of trees, boots caked with dried mud from the last woods walk to see what was sprouting, I sit inside remembering the feeling of summer on my skin.  Early in the morning, the birds are lively outside, their songs pulling me out of sleep.  The tree outside my office is showing the…

Sacred water

1.8.12 How our waters    flow     into one another the breathless “yes” of convergence when   all that is   sacred    coalesces   into a meeting at a river– We arrive     with a sense of     singularity but the water    lapping rocks   shows us the flaws in our logic games– This    breath,    this    river one–this moment   punctuated yet completely…

Quiet reflection/gazing forward

The wind roars in the trees around my house. The light is beginning to dim; its orange glaze covering only the tops of the pines and maples now. Earlier, as I sat bundled up with William Powers’ book 12×12, I found myself reflecting on this place I have begun to settle into. I know the…