Saturday, March 25, 2017

Saturday by the Sea

This morning, the sun was shining, so the beach was calling. When I got there, the road was lined with cars from one end to the other. Every surfer on the West Coast must have been there. 

The waves were spectacular. A cacophony of hoots, laughter, joyous shrieks and happy dog barks
filled the air, counterpoint to the roar of the waves.

When a photo opp like this walks by, one must be swift with her camera to capture it. The surfers watching them pass seemed to appreciate the beauty as well. 

I like to play with my camera at the edge of the water, trying to capture the changing patterns on the sand as the waves withdraw. So I was standing there, back to the ocean, when suddenly a big wave rushed in, filling my boots, soaking my jeans to the knee, and almost knocking me down. I emerged nonchalantly, cane tap tap tapping, pretending the immersion was intended. LOL.

I came home with my heart singing (and with a jelly doughnut for dessert tonight.) I tell you, life doesn't get much better.

Friday, March 24, 2017

Dancing the Paradigm

As the planets shift their orbits
in the heavens,

a time of change on earth arrives.

what would happen if we
expanded our perspective
wide enough to change,
not just a relationship,
a circumstance, a limitation,
but the entire paradigm -
if we breathed an evolution, a revolution,
an expansive flowering
of every good intention,
transforming them to action,
a New Way a-borning?

What would happen if we:
bought no plastic,
watched and participated in no violence,
ate no trauma from factory farms,
nurtured our children well,
believed - truly believed - in Joy?
recycled, reused, reduced,
rejected excess, embraced simplicity,
and loved ourselves and our neighbour?

Solstice wish:
May we trip the light fantastic,
prancing and cavorting
like giddy reindeer
under a waning polar moon,
conga into April sunshine with hopeful feathers
all aloft and glistening,
caper into the dawn, vibrant and smiling
and never so alive!

Come spring, I shall pull on the moss
like socks,
and tiptoe through the forest
like a sprite.
I will dip a tip-toe
into the Pond of Peace,
and set my dreams alight
with the shine of sunset
beside the western sea.

Never before,
has there been
such a springtime of Possibility
as now I see.

from spring, 2014, which I will share with the Poetry Pantry at Poets United, where it is Possible to find some very fine reading with your coffee on a Sunday morning. Smiles.

Of Wolves and Rivers

We are all connected.
As wolves change rivers,
may we all be changed,
recognizing that
what happens to one,
happens to us all.

May we transform 
our human consciousness,
embrace our global interconnectedness.
The way the wolves
alter the course of rivers,
may we change the trajectory
we are on,
away from global destruction
back onto the path
of transformation, replenishment,
sustainability and the healing
of Mother Earth's deep wounds.
May we support and emulate
the flourishing
of earth, sea
and rivers,
of all creatures,
human and wild,
the way wolves
change rivers.

"When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe."
John Muir

Thursday, March 23, 2017


He speaks
the way electricity
a scrambled stop-and-start
of incomplete phrases,
plucked at random.

Yet his henchmen 
eat up

for Mama Zen's WTF? prompt at Real Toads : write something strange you saw this week in 60 words or less. I had just read the Time interview with an incoherent trump. Sort of like you'd expect on a closed ward somewhere.  Only took me 26 words. The sign really says it all.

Wednesday, March 22, 2017

Mirror, Mirror

I looked into the wicker-framed mirror
and a shift occurred with my eyes:
my grandma's face super-imposed
on my own,
her expression grave and wise.

She looked at me
with eyes that knew me,
with eyes that could always
see right through me.
She had a message
she wished to impart
that I had to decipher
with my heart.

I took up the cane
that she left me,
her mantle of matriarch
becoming my own,
stepped forward into my sixties,
welcomed into
the Age of Crones.

for Sumana's prompt at Midweek Motif: Mirror

I remember the day I looked into the mirror, in my little trailer in Port Alberni,  and suddenly saw my grandma's face transposed on top of my own.

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

The River Wild

In the piney-woods,
the path is scattered with pine cones
and fallen branches,
ground soft and springy underfoot,
smell of canopy and trees,
song of the river
wild in winter flood.

The rough bark of Grandfather Cedar
tells the story of a thousand years
of standing in one place.
When you look up,
when you lay your hand
against his trunk,
when you listen,
you can feel and hear his message:

Look into this little pocket of forest,
draped in moss and old man's beard,
salal springing up everywhere,
ferns and fiddleheads,
small white winter berries,
toadstools and wild morel,
every inch alive with myriad life forms,
an entire ecosystem existing here,
in a patch
no bigger than
your hand.

Listen to the silence,
alive with the forest's breathing,
and the secrets
only the forest knows.
If you take the time,
this old tree
will share with you
his wisdom.

The river is wild in winter.
It expends its force
tumbling and crashing over rocks,
rushing the banks
and frothing white and foamy
through the canyon.

Sit a spell.
Just Be.
Breathe the river in,
breathe your worries out.

The word I'm looking for, here,
is reverence.

for Grace's prompt at dVerse Poets Pub: The River. In my time in Port Alberni, it was the river that sustained me. I took Pup often, as it was the wildest place available to us, and it eased, for the time we were there, our mourning over the wilderness we had lost. I was unable to go back there, after he died. 

All photos other than the one credited are mine.

The Children of Syria

This is one of the most moving and beautiful videos ever......I don't know how the adults of the world can watch this and not rise up and put an end to war. The children sing of hope amongst devastation. May the leaders of the world hear their cries.

Sing, children of Syria,
your dreams of a world
where bombs do not fall
and buildings do not crumble,
a world where your laughter
replaces wails of grief
when family and friends
lay dying.

Sing your belief
in a life
where peace is possible.
Sing to those leaders
of a world
where hatred and division rule,
and soften their hearts
with your innocence and beauty.

May the words you sing
bring about
the world
of your bright dreams.