Birch Island Books

Beloved Saint Michael,
thank you from the deepest part of my self.

Can it be?
Did I solve my posting trouble all by myself?

No. I may have figured it out and pushed the right buttons,
But Tech Support taught me to figure it out.

Thanks, Tech Support!

WordPress seems to not like making new posts this week – I will ask Tech Support to solve the problem. Meanwhile, I am working on a new collection of Moon poetry.

August 17th

Fire tornadoes in the headlines,

But Sgiob and I
(and small dog Max)
had a beautiful woods walk before coming to this virtual desk.

A beautiful spirit gave me a beautiful gift –
and the challenge to use it in good faith.
I have fought the demon which says to lay it by, pristine,
unmarred by me.

Challenge accepted – with a tiny bit of trembling and a tiny false start –
Thanks, Val.

Early, early – fireflies and Perseids
dance together with me in the meadow.

I can’t always tell which is which.
and that’s magical.

How is this going to work, then,
this week of peace?

I’ve already undermined myself with work to do before I can feel peaceful.
At least I planned ahead to undermine myself?

All the folk gather – from all over the world,
safely masked by distance and tech.
Welcome back together, friends!

Summer rain,
Coolth,
A slow saunter around the meadow,
We all stop to sniff the flowers.

Some of us try eating them, I’ll let you guess who.

Tonight, tonight, tonight!

I have an evening habit of going outdoors
to give the dogs their moment, of course,
but that’s not the whole of the thing.

I have an evening habit of going outdoors
and I look at the sky –

Clouds or moon or Hunter
Last night it was the Mama Bear
and the just-more-than-First-Quarter moon
and Jupiter
and Saturn
and Arcturus

And I realized.
I go out to check on my friends.

Early to bed,
Early to rise,
Quiet drive through empty streets at sunrise,
Find my way,
Carry my craft,
New water!

Oooh! more of a current than expected,
that was an adventure!
So, turn up this way where it’s wider, slower,
Softer.

And drift back.

Home in time for coffee.

I hear you, friend.
Send that letter.
If you don’t believe in yourself today, I’m your Great Aunt and *I’ll* believe in you for you.

It’s not cold, but it’s damp and cool enough for a shawl,
a multi-colored shawl which was a beautiful, thoughtful gift,
long and wide and silky enough to use for a headscarf when that’s what’s needed.

Thunderstorms have been brewing, but they have not really covered us in glorious power yet this week, I would like that, some glorious thunderstorm power.

Thick air, steep path, woolen socks
when I long to be barefoot, but that would go badly.
We went further than we did yesterday
— a lot further —
and now there’s coffee.