A garden mermaid stands
succulent in her certainty
containing what is needed
each current has its own agenda
and water will not flow
to suit your desire
we harvest new ideas
put plans into action
stand close and watch
for tight buds to flower
sometimes it seems easier
to ignore the ants
under the windowsill
or aphids on the foxglove
nature’s details prevail
and the only sure defeat
is to expect perfection
can we learn to accept
the constant turning
the seasons, the endless
wheel of the year?
Always there is the longing
to honor each expanding bloom
as sand drips in the hourglass
we must learn to love the moment
that the moment must end
In each other we see
a waterfall of creation
our river of dreams
may hit rocks of reality
and burst into being
in this fertile ground
the seeds we thought
too strange for planting
may yet yield
an abundant harvest
given favorable conditions
as spring discovers it’s full glory
the bees see flowers
fat with pollen
shining with enterprise.
Collage for Venus in Taurus
“Every Day Sprouting”
Tomorrow is a full moon in Libra. A good time to focus on what rings true and release what no longer feels authentic or in alignment with your intentions.
“We focus on the source of truth.”
Seeing between ideas.
A collage for election eve.
Now we hope for the power of love.
It’s late fall and there are many things flying about
starlings tweedle and chirp from the telephone pole
where this morning as I am taking out the trash
I look up and see a great horned owl
silhouetted against the lightening sky.
I jump and run to get my husband
and he joins me on the cold brick of our front porch
It’s Tue, he says, and we both agree
this is the spirit of our cat, recently deceased.
How does the call go? he asks, sheepishly,
since all last autumn we walked
the streets and narrow alleys
of our neighborhood, calling for an owl
who would sometimes call back,
sometimes appear overhead on whisper white wings.
Last year we saw a couple nesting in the eucalyptus grove,
two dry-leaf colored lumps on one arching branch
and listened as they called to one another.
Once I was on the back deck crying
over some old wellspring of pain, and looked up
to see the cobalt sky, and the owl flying
across our yard from east to west.
Once we were lost driving back roads at dusk
sniping at each other in annoyance
and an owl swooped down like a blinding angel
across our windshield.
Once we were night walking
and you said it was an owl, but
I think it was a black-crowned heron
that erupted out of tree shadows
like the surprising strength of our grief
and knocked you to your knees.
With a view
infusing fun into
can also encourage