a perfect day

I love fall. Every day something new. Wind stirring leaves across the deck or whirling them in random waves from their branches. Gold, rust, scarlet, fading greens of all hues. Fallen leaves forming ever-shifting patterns on the ground. Quiet days and howling nights. Sun, rain, unpredictable temperatures. All of it morphing summer’s landscapes both interior and beyond. The hint of cold to come; the nostalgia of warmth leaving. The snap of first frost with its promises of warming fires and soups. The changing light. Sudden silence following the incessant honking of traveling vee’s of south-winging geese. The quieting of songbirds. Cold-nosed nights under cosy comforters. Turning inward to reflect, hold, contemplate.

It turns out my new pup loves fall, as well. We take long walks along beach, through forest, in open fields. Each scent an announcement of some new joy or mystery for her to solve. Each clump of grass an excuse to explore. Each canine encounter cause for celebratory play. Each basin of water an invitation to splash and leap. The sheer exuberance of it all is heart-expanding, energizing. The season renews and invigorates even as it winds down to quiet and stillness. And then there’s the experience of a single, perfect day.

A Perfect Day
9.28.21

Daybreak. Orange fluttering atop pink
milkweed, six or more pairs a token
of past years’ orange clouds covering fields 
to refuel en route south for winter. 

A yoga hour of stretch, rise, bend, 
reach, the dog beside me on the mat, 
her bone firm between paw and jaw.
The two of us savoring the calm. 

Ahead, gathering and dispersing weed,
broken branch; checking for ripe 
eggplant, tomato; plucking the last
golden raspberries from their canes.

Later, a dark gray ribbon snaking the horizon 
vowing thunder and pelting rain to follow. 
The dog reveling in the rise and fall 
of foam-edged tide; and I, 

in four decades of this same walk
my children growing up and I, old. Shoreline
receding with memories of each summer 
spent, each reunion and visit shared. 

Evening sun sliding down its softened hues. 
Peace rising between and around us.

swb

layered reflections

Today’s photo prompt for WordPress Photo 101 invites us to incorporate glass as a layer of interest in a photograph. Thank you for the opportunity to share some sun fun I had the other day as I peered through layers of lens, water, and crystal vase to follow distortions of linen lines. Please enjoy!

moodling onward

Beckwith James Carroll Lost in Thought

Beckwith James Carroll Lost in Thought (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Today’s WP Daily Prompt poses the (timely) question:

Think about something that drives you crazy. Now, think about something that makes you happy. Does it change your perspective?

Ever have the feeling that someone ‘out there’ is actually inside your own head? or heart? As in, thinking your thought, feeling your feeling, saying what you had yet to find the words to express?

So it is with today’s prompt. I appear to have dropped off the blogging radar. And not the first time. This drives me crazy, because it was a simple practice I promised myself: to blog three times/week.

Blogging makes me happy, you see. It gives me an opportunity, however briefly in the day, to focus on something that connects me with a larger world. Like the one whose ideas reflect my own. And yours, whose words might move me to tears or action or flight. The point is, they move me.

And so I am reminded again what I tell my writers, and what I witness each time we hold a reading for invited guests. Our sharing is, in Brenda Ueland’s words, ‘a generosity, not a performance.’ Ah, yes! I do not need to present polished pieces. There are no grades. I am doing this for my own satisfaction. Thanks for the reminder.

And, as Brenda Ueland ALSO said: “The imagination needs moodling — long, inefficient happy idling, dawdling and puttering. ” That’s where I’ve been. Moodling.

sunday reflection

Status

clouds reflected in pondSummer hasn’t quite yet started for me. Or rather, it’s started and moved in fits and bits. Not just heat settling and then dissipating. Events, too. Weddings. Retreats. Reunions. Helping family move. Planning the launch for the book of writings from the incarcerated women we work with. Acclimating the new rescue kitty (OK, she’s three but so t-i-n-y at 7 pounds she looks and feels like a kitty), reassuring the resident rescue dog. Oh, and did I mention writing . . . ?

By next week (my calendar assures me) I’ll ‘be on vacation.’ Meaning, I hope, writing more. Lots, in fact. But between now and then, let this small token suffice:

Retreat Reflection

You pass through me
breeze and breath, sorrow and joy
the rippled lilt of the mirroring pond.

You grow in me
grafting roots, limbs, the whole
living tree of us reaching toward light.

You live in me
your words the bread of our communion
your laughter the wine that lifts my spirits.

swb