Fox sparrows kick under the snowberry thicket, while chickadees peck about in cedar needle duff flinging fallen leaves with abandon, foraging under the gloomy gray November cold sky. Squirrels, furred and fattened, are not slowed while brush rabbits, calm, chew grass blades or just lie low, waiting, on what I do not know. Winter quickly comes in rain and cold. I've done what I could for the creatures - fallen leaves left to molder on the ground, twig and branch brush heap piles for the bugs. Here, a pile of small rocks lies still by the fence, there, cut logs on the ground, decaying and soft growing lichen as green moss on rock slithers. It is time to let the yard and all its inhabitants fend for themselves while I tend my own inner life within the stillness that only winter can bring. I'll be glad for the season's lights hanging about reminding me of how we all are finding the way through our own thickets where we may hide and where we may find what we need for life. ______________________________________________________________ Portland, Oregon - November 23, 2021
Month: November 2021
Circle of Heaven
Round and round we walk the circle of heaven the way before us opening step by faltering step. Slowly moving, never ceasing; each step an eternity - worlds being born, worlds falling fast away stars bursting to life, stars flashing out in flaming array. Walking the circle of heaven on a cold starless night. Cloud shrouded moon, blown branches bending birds hidden in them swaying, brown downed leaves swirling. We walk on paths of the wild world spinning round, as if only in our withering gardens, dazed and spellbound. _____________________________________________________ Portland, Oregon - November 19, 2021
Embracing Darkness
I wake in the morning to darkness beyond the clock and shade. Weary from sleep, knowing the time, I throw back warm covers, step onto the cold floor to make my way into the lingering gloom of the gray day that remains just the shadow of night. In this season we will dress up darkness in bright lights, adorn it in green wreaths accompanied by songs and bright laughter until we forget from where we came where we are going and who we are. There are those who do not ever forget. Angels seek our hidden and unspoken souls, desirous to gather up all we left behind - a friend, a failure, a love we did not well love - when, afraid, we tried to banish darkness. I have had my dark days, remembered, that I cannot take back and make light. Perhaps I may, as this season's offering, lay them all upon the table of night and for them, offer thanks and praise. ___________________________________________ Portland, Oregon - November 8, 2021
In Cascadia 