Category: Morning Meander

Without voices, snores, music, shows, papers shuffling, laundry washing
And the precious hours of quiet seep into my heart
To renew old paths by walking down them again.

Not even the literal sound: right now no one else is stirring, snoring, sighing in their sleep.
Yet I feel their presence—their wonderful, warm, love presence—and I designate a thread of attention poised to follow their moments, their movements, their meaning.

But when the house is just for me
—and the dogs—
I can attend to other things, inner and outer and defying that binary.

They’re home now, sleeping, which is best;
and I will savor the next day of silence when it comes.

“It feels like moonlight,” she said hopefully.

And it was,
and the loneliness fled.

That I saw them:
Cygnus, Aquila, Lyra;
Deneb, Altair, Vega.

They’re getting ready.
So am I.

I’m after needing you to stay
and not pull back into cold rains.

I’m after needing warm and green and grow
and an invitation to dig my toes into the grass every time I look out the window.

And I look out the window often.
I’m holding on very tightly to it all.

I need you, May, to help my fingers open.
Then we’ll see about my heart.

Whiplash.
This is unpleasant.
I call for an end to this nonsense.

In a haze of good neighbors
and good cheer
and gladness.

Welcome, gladness.
Welcome deep green of grasses.
Time to check the lawn mower and do this properly.

White and liath and purple-cloud-striped magenta with fuchsia base.
It is not yet obligatory to return to Ordinary Time.
I will watch this beautiful sunrise first.

Thin and yellow

Sunrise clear and a bit chill
Sunrise through bare branches
I think the sun has risen before me and that was needed.

She’s white and quiet this morning,
a glance through branches of bare trees
simply a neighbor in the forest, gathering her night herbs and nodding to me as our paths cross and our days begin.

Another woman sits up quietly,
pulls her cloak about her and rises.
“I have the watch,” she says, and listens while her brother makes his ablutions.

That will be this morning’s story.

Were singing to each other!

Singing!

Do you understand?
They were singing and I heard them and the Three Queens heard them
(even though it is not summer)
and the tail of the Bear pointed to Arcturus, of course, but the arc carried through directly to the moon like a spotlight, like a silver carpet.

It was cold enough to be very clear, yet not so very cold.
I could stop and stay as long as I liked and gaze and gaze on the dancers and breathe deeply the sweetness of early spring air
and I could taste the moonlight a little.

Dark house with soft lights
Dark water invitation
Submerge, surrender,
Float… far…
Until I can hear the call
and answer in a
Dark field beneath a
Dark sky
and kneel in
Dark snow
in
Reverence
in
Deep trust.

Back to the waters,
voices around me,
I listen.
I shift.
I sleep.

Moon, sweet slim old crescent, perfect for a cold winter morning

And Morning star, tear of Isis, jewel

They hang together this morning, lit by the same sun, turning simple radiation to magic and passing it on to my eyes.

May I see beauty today.

between working too hard out of duty,
obligation,
unhealthy deadlines and self-expectation

and

running in to work because I am lonely
and in the shelter of this clearly defined space
I know that I have value
I know that I have colleagues who are kind and brilliant and passionate about their own niches within our niche.

I joked with my friend about “you know
my immature black-and-white thinking streak a mile wide” and he
laughed and nodded because he did know it well.

Well, I have such a streak
so I like bright lines.
I really am not fit to be let out into the real world.
Perhaps that’s the next lesson.