Flowing Grateful

July 3, 2011

Today I’m grateful.

For slow weekend meals.

Of laughter and food.

For the warmth.

Between my kids.

And their cousins.

For my little one’s hugs.

Before the teenage storm.

And the middle child’s way.

Of spinning the world she wants.

For my eldest who knows.

To care for time. And friends.

And for my amazement.

At their gifts.

Acquired.

From here.

And elsewhere.

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Trusting change

June 30, 2011

The notion.

That change must come.

Follows me.

Perched on my shoulder.

Like Pinocchio’s cricket.

While I try to ignore it.

Recognizing the toughness.

Of moving.

From a comfortable space.

Though knowing.

It’s more rocky.

Than it used to be.

Trying to align.

Faith and action.

And heart and mind.

To open.

Possibilities.

Learning Tai Chi

June 22, 2011

Every Monday.

I learn Tai Chai.

And I wonder.

How the more I learn.

The harder it gets.

No longer fooled.

By its simplicity.

Or slowness.

But seeing something.

Of its depth.

Beyond me.

To remember.

To balance.

To breath.

To flow.

And not with the mind.

But the body.

Learning to connect.

With the empty.

 

Listening at Twilight

June 22, 2011

Twilight’s short around here.

Marked more by sound.

Than sight.

And walking the paths.

At dusk I hear.

Kids’ shouts mingled.

With mothers calling.

Home. Before dark.

And tractors from far.

In the sunflower fields.

Hurrying. The last pick.

Of the light.

And along the ditches.

Crickets and frogs.

Fight for chorus.

With jackals.

Loud. In surround sound.

And above my head.

If I listen hard.

The barn owl’s breath.

Following me.

Down the path.

At dusk.

Flowing grateful

June 11, 2011

Today I’m grateful.

For a weekend.

Free from email.

And remembering.

Not to read the news.

For a grey twilight beach.

With the sun fading down.

And a bonfire.

Of salty blue wood.

For dinner with friends.

In night-air and laughter.

With marmalade ice-cream.

And a honeysuckle scent.

 

 

 

 

Flowing Grateful

June 8, 2011

Today I’m grateful.

For a lazy morning lie-in.

And the red hammock.

Now hanging on my porch.

For the first pink watermelon.

And a blue plate.

Piled with white salty cheese.

For the summer wind.

Bringing coolness.

As the day turned dry and yellow.

And for a black night drive.

Of open windows.

Ending.

With the last slice of cheesecake.

Forgotten in the fridge.

Working the weekend

June 5, 2011

Thought today.

About my weekend.

Wondering.

When I started.

Putting dishes.

Before siesta.

And laundry.

Before a walk on the beach.

And how priorities.

Get turned around.

With the good stuff.

Left til last.

Standing in line.

At the end of the chores.

And made a promise.

To myself.

Next weekend.

Passing time

May 30, 2011

In the schoolyard today.

With my little one.

And glimpsed.

For a moment.

My twenty-year old.

Aged eight.

Running with a bag.

Bigger than her.

To hug me.

And thought that.

In spite of the wrinkles.

This passing of time.

Is a treasure.

That carries within it.

Possibilities.

Of change.

And growth.

And new ways.

Not yet trod.

By young.

Or old.

“To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under the sun.”

Flowing grateful

May 25, 2011

Today I’m grateful.

For rising with the sun.

And the clear road.

That led to work.

Through moments of quiet.

And creative thought.

For the long weekend.

Of music and laughter.

Sleeping rough.

Under Galilee stars.

For coffee warmed.

By friendship.

And wise conversation.

And for new jewellery.

Of copper and turquoise.

Handmade with the heart.

For my neck.

Picking fruit

May 22, 2011

Today I followed.

The trail of fruit.

That leads to summer.

Winter apples.

Pears and oranges.

Far gone.

Market stalls filled.

With kiwi.

And yellow sugar melon.

Grown in cold valleys.

And deserts.

And by the roadside.

Black cherries.

Red watermelons.

Warm peaches.

And a mango tree.

Not quite ripe.

Not quite ready for summer.