Birch Island Books

Clothes on the line,
covered in snow.

A mystery clipped me on the brain stem today and walking was not a chore to be avoided,
I went, and quickly, and dogs bounded joyfully, and we walked further than I thought we would because there were brand new smells down at the bag-end, with new road-grading fill and rocks had been moved which turned up old leaves.

Old leaves for goodness sake.
It was wonderful.

Frost which melts.
Sunshine which touches thin and bony fingers.
The forces are poised,
not yet agent,
waiting. For something.

I had a seeing this morning,
a knowing,
that many, many gods are nothing like human
with thought, emotion, motivation.

That had been a little naive of me.

When snow falls yesterday night
and then melts a little yesterday
when merry, running paws churn it up
into shapes and valleys and hills
and places where the bouncy ball might have been
but wasn’t
and then last night
it freezes hard
and those shapes are made crisp,
then this morning we find
the best scritching snow
for snow baths.

Puns, broadcasts, classes,
rearrangements of furniture
and filing cabinets,

We are all home,
two adult kids,
two Mamas,
and the happiest two shepherd dogs ever –

The flock is all together again!

The sun drew me out,
not gold this sunrise,
but lemon – sharp, sweet, bright, bright, bright.

We even ran a little bit
in the sweet, fresh, north-scented air.

Just beautiful.
Thank you, gods and guides and guardians, for this day.

My gratitude gift this morning is to return again to the lesson
in how to resist making myself smaller so that others can grow.
I’m not the only one who loses out if I don’t resist.
Remember that, greybird, remember that.

Hold my ground with grace and peace,
Take up my space with grace and peace,

…You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here…

By Max Ehrmann © 1927

Eighteen hours to the equinox, my friends.
A day for contemplating balance, equity, compassion,
Justice.

Mercy.

Compassion, patience, acceptance, evenness, peace.

To remind me of foundational principles,
Snow falls,
Soft and silent,
on all.

Morning coffee,
Clear sky.

Nearly clear sky,
salmon-tinged puffy clouds
low on the horizon.
Color gently saturates the greys of dawnlight,
a soft, soft green which will enrich as the earth spins a little more.

Birches hold on to their black-and-white,
Bare reminders that it is still winter,
and that a Twilight Land is never far.

Good morning.

I am taking deep breaths of rainy air, ground squishing gently underfoot.
There’s a stillness to enjoy, no wind, no critter moving about, no cars up on the road
– on our unpaved, bag-end road with only four houses beyond ours –
just the soft plinking of drops on leaves.

I don’t know if you can take a saunter, my friend,
whether you have time for one,
whether it would take you into crowds to roll or walk outside your door,
or whether you are stuck indoors.

I’m going to take a walk for you,
and share the sights,
just in case you needed me to.

The dogs and I are delighted to present a new book of dog-walking poetry. Won’t you walk along with us from Ostara to Beltane?

The sap is running, friends, and I’m editing the poetry collection which walks to Beltane. Thank you all for encouragement, thank you, dogs, for the good company.