Easter Moon

Big, round, full Easter moon glows like a fresh eggs in the nest of bare tree branches. A reflective illusion making something so lifeless appear alive.Even in death there is life.

Blessings of light in the cold dark night. Winds from a far off sun. Ghostly ribbons dancing their ancestral dance between earth and stars. Like to the call of the pipes I dream of home.

Healing Ink

Black ink bleeds across the page. Words flow, tears flow, wounds heal. Sun streams in.

Three Ravens

Three ravens watch me from their sentinel line on the cart return frame.

The Matter of Spirit

Walking on ice we must balance maintaining just the perfect connection with the earth. Breathing requires a balance too maintaining just the perfect connection with the spirit. Warm ears, deep eyes but work weary a fervent companion is released to the world beyond. My deepest gratitude and blessings, dear friend. We will be together again.

Reworking the stone

After a complete month of putting small stones in The River, I'm going to proceed writing small stones as I can. I truly enjoy it; but, I think I may stray from how I originally set out.  I think a "small stone" can also be an observation of a thought or idea or even something heard.  Yes. It is about the words and writing; but, I want to retain the freedom to explore those small thoughts more fully. A stone has many sides. Some are simple like a river stone while some have jagged edges and many facets. Some have flecks of gold!

I was treated to a bit of cultural education by my daughter; we watched the Lord of The Rings Trilogy - Extended Version.  OK - I get it now.  It was beautiful and inspiring. And, in the middle of the movie I announced a revelation "WE NEED A PARTY!"

The sun returns gradually each day it lingers a bit longer and arrives just a tad earlier.  It doesn't seem so bleak now that spring is counting distance.   

I can feel the clover beneath my feet and hear the river rushing over rocks. I hear the whisper of the leaves. I hear the thunder rumbling in the mountains.

Tune fiddles, find your picks and bows we need a party! Friends new and old, dancing, singing, sharing, stories, drumming, a fire blazing brightly through the night, children, hugging, flowers, sweet tea and time. We need to celebrate.

Talkeetna to Telluride to the Blue Ridge - All are welcome!

 Let's celebrate!

January 31st

Drawing the bow. First to the left because I am Yin. Inspiring, full of white light, only intent no aiming, no target. Exhaling all grief. Exhaling the stagnant chi. Balancing honoring the Yang me. Drawing the bow to the right. All elements gently in motion guided by my breath, guided by my Yi.  Wuji.

January 30th

Today would be my father’s 84th birthday. The Internet, cable, and telephone service was out most of the day.  Ironic because he was very interested in communications, radio, television, and phones. He would have loved the Internet. Sadly, he passed just before it became a popular. This is life and this is death. I miss him very much.

January 28th

This cold is no longer poetic. It is no longer a temporary diversion or aberration. It is no longer romantic.  I’m weary of trying to make the best of it.  It has given me and my vehicle an acute case of Tourette’s. Theater patrons walk like aliens eyes cast to their feet, teeth clenched,  all skin covered, hand in pockets, steam curling from their nostrils, brisk stiff steps. We need to escape!

January 27th

In the sky deep sapphire blue, moon is a but sliver venus keeps vigil.

January 26th

An open door in sub zero temps, stubborn dog , errands,  lost tooth, summer hat, zippers, mittens, frosted car windows, full trash bin, dirty dishes, empty bowls, phone calls, email, mail - Wuji. Taiji, Yin Yang. Wan Wu

January 25th

The old dog’s dream sounds underscored by the hardddrive’s hum

January 24th

There’s no moon
I wait
Cold seeps into my bones
I wait
I search the dark sky
I wait
Gradually you appear
I wait
You begin to dance
Some say you are bearing messages
I watch
I listen
You play your visual symphony in the starry sky
I’m trapped t by your Mysterious beauty
I wait
You come and go unannounced
I wait
I fear you not
I wait
Your visit is a blessing however brief
You show me I am at home
I wait
You will be gone with the dawn
I wait
I watch
I shiver
Someday you will dance for my children
They wait warm in their beds
Tonight it is just us
Two drifters in the night

January 23rd

I saw on the news that the sun was visible in Barrow today. In the dark of the moon on the frozen horizon a glowing hint of summer’s fervent sentinel mesmerizes.

January 22nd

Plundered True Crime Detective magazines reburied beneath musty layers of clothes in the old dresser drawer - A 10-year-old’s booty..

January 21st

Celebrating his birthday the polar bear at the zoo chose the red frozen treat over the yellow one, of course.

January 20th

My dogs and I patiently wait out the winter together. They store tummy rubs and ear scritches for the time when their now soulful dark eyes will be gleaming with the sun’s mischievousness and this time of waiting will be but a memory.

January 19th

The wicked wind ruthlessly perpetrates its crimes. It violates, penetrates, deranges, binds, gags, steals, rages, rampages, maims, and murders. A spree unceasing on helpless victims.

January 18th

Picking cherries, feeling the warm summer breeze. The sun offers a reassuring mother’s touch. Fluffy clouds, grassy carpet, luscious red cherries - In meditation I can go anywhere and no where at all.

January 17th

Mom has a brand new knee. The old knee worn from scrubbing floors and bending in prayer, from climbing stairs carrying stock for the shelves and from kneeling to pull up daughters’ knee-highs. What serves can become weak and painful.