Day breaks, and there are fields

Day breaks, and there are fields
to plow, or plant, or mow,
but first let's sit together
at this table;
let's feel the morning sun
as it pours in, and drink
these sweet liquid reflections;
let's breathe the scent of earth
through opened windows
and listen for the swallow
as she feeds the babies in her nest:
rest here, in preparation for the day.


I offer this poem for today's One Word Blog Carnival whose one-word prompt is "farm". The carnival is hosted by Peter Pollock.

Where fear and hope collide

If I really look,
I can clearly see
there are two opposing
points of view:
one wary and fearful,
the other cheery and hopeful.
I try not to look too closely
at the places where they intersect --
those moments in life
when fear and hope are all-consuming --
I'd just as soon not go there
but stay somewhere in between,
drifting on a tide of love,
singing a song of trust...
though some, I know
-- especially you -- would call this
fiddling while Rome burns...

Of two minds

"I'm of two minds," she said --
about this meditation stuff --
and with that thought
realized again
the duality of her thinking.
When will we see
that two are always one,
that either/or must always give way
to both, and; and even that decision
is a choice that reinforces
this insidious division
between One and the Same...

Mary's dream

At the edge of a stage
the young man sits
playing guitar
to an empty hall:
there is no one
to judge,
or to complain
save Mary,
on her knees,
praying, hoping against hope
that her son will survive;
that his music will resonate
across the ages;
that this is one melody
that will never fade...
and is this, too,
some outworn fairy tale?

Bright blooms of joy

Rest quietly:
float gently on the sea of being --
see what bubbles up;
what possibilities arise;
what lush rich springs
still simmer there,
waiting to be brought to light;
what roots, long nourished
in the soil beneath
need only your attention
to send forth
bright blooms of joy.

Drinking the same rain

We are all tulips
in the same pot,
gracing the same walkway,
glorying in the same sunlight,
drinking the same rain
from our golden cups.
Someday, perhaps, we'll understand
there is enough --
enough rain,
enough dirt,
enough light
enough visibility
enough color --
plenty of everything we need
to breathe life and joy and beauty
into the eyes
of the beholder...

Time to rest

Night,
and the dark is deepening:
past visions of the future loom;
flat-screen projections
of success and failure
chase us through
the dark alleys
of constant progress.
The time has come
to return home and rest;
to climb the stairs,
unlock the door,
and curl up in the nest of Now.
Now settle in,
and settle down;
relax and breathe --
just breathe...