Winter Writings: Day 21

Fly wild and free!
Joyously celebrate your freefall
weightless dance in the clouds
while singing your trumpet songs.
I close my eyes and feel
your wind on my face and become
a feather on your wing,
taking my yearning heart
to a warmer land,
leaving behind my time worn body
to contend with the bitter cold
and dream of the daffodil sun.

Winter Writings: Day 20

The wild, winter wind
tossed the tempestuous moon
from a black night sky
while seeking the warmth of the sun.
Dawn giggled in delight
and dressed the morning sky
in frilly petticoats of pink and yellow
tied with ribbon made of
the song of tiny birds.

Winter Writings: Day 19

One day, I woke up and found,
my life is no longer a someday future
whose varied outcomes
are daydreams created
to pass the time on an endless day;
my life is now, in this moment of time
that will never pass again.
I need to make a jump...now...
into this life I've imagined
and celebrate the opportunities
to make my dreams come true,
lest those opportunities
become the regrets forever trapped
in the lost moments of the past.

Winter Writings: Day 18

A year ago today, my son's father died. Diagnosed with cancer in November, we had less than two months to say goodbye. We had shared 17 married years together and the last four years as good friends, emailing everyday to say hello in the morning. Although he was 425 miles away, he was always the one person I could email or call when the world turned upside down and he would patiently listen to my worries. We were closer apart than we were together. And somehow I thought he would always be there...I would always wake up to that email and the world would be okay. I took all it for granted.

Eight weeks was not really long enough to say goodbye. We talked about our time together and told our old stories and laughed and appreciated the road we traveled together. But we really didn't even scratch the surface. And then he was gone. And suddenly you realize the memories you shared are alone in your heart and no matter how you try to explain them to others, even my son, it's not the same. The nuances cannot be explained.

For a year now, I have started sentences with "Do you remember?" and heard only a lonely echo. I miss you, my friend, and hope you are in a place filled with peace.

Winter Writings: Day 17

Ah, to be the wind
with freedom to travel to distant places
and make them yours
to wrap your arms around
the mighty Himalayas
and breath the incense of their snows
to sail solo through stormy oceans of waves
and create piled dunes of shifting sands
to ruffle the feathers of penguins
and drag your fingers through a lion's mane
to carve windows in rock
and turn the world lacy white with blowing snow
to erode mighty mountains into gentle hills
and turn the world dark with raging storms
Yet you do not stop
to admire your creativity
your itchy feet are always
on the path to new adventures
I want to be the wind when I grow up...

Winter Writings: Day 16

A sudden breeze gathers the
brown parchment leaves
in scattered books
of winter prose
and binds them in
west facing corners
waiting for spring
when fickle birds
who do not read
will line their nest with pages
of already forgotten poems.

Soldered Charms

Just thought I'd post the soldered charms we'll be making in class at Collage on Alberta St. in Portland, OR on Saturday, January 8. For more info on the class and signup, you can go to their site.

Winter Writngs: Day 15

I love the silence of midnight

when I am alone in my thoughts

and the noise of the world

disappears beneath the covers

sandwiched between cats

and an old worn quilt.

I drift into Walter Mitty dreams

where all things are possible

and dreams can come true.

Soon the morning comes

and with it the reality of life.

But for now,

I am safe inside my heart.

Winter Writings: Day 14

The cars fly back and forth across the Sam Jackson bridge. The drivers faces drained and largely devoid of expression as they scurry to their destinations. They drive unaware of the river below them on its slow journey to the sea. What a tale they miss by not stopping to hear the water tell its story. From birth in a thunderstorm, high in the mountains where it joined a tumbling stream, growing faster and wider with each drop of rain; through its wild journey down the river of no return, tumbling through the frothy rapids and basking in the lazy backwater pools while eagles plucked lunch from the water; through the slow crazy oxbows of the Snake River; and on to the mighty Columbia. An epic journey that few humans have made. Instead, most choose to focus on our smaller lives and hurry on to engage in empty tasks. Never realizing that in doing so, we lost the opportunity to take a moment and learn how to be alive.

Winter Writings: Day 13

I wake up in the night and peer out the window
between the delicate jeweled frost
that twinkles with starlight.
A dark cloak of solitude
embraces the trees
that by day are an explosion of crowded song
and the secret whispers of leaves.
The moon and stars travel
their endless night journey,
while the moths swirl and churn
around the porch light flame.
A freight train moans in the distance
singing to the rolling river
that captures moonlight
and carries it to the sea.
Beyond the river
is a hundred years ago,
when the night was filled with mystery
and the song of a hundred wild animals.
My soul fills with primitive longing
to belong to the dark night
and ride the cold wind
on the back of a red-tailed hawk
racing towards the dawn.

Winter Writings: Day 12

Nature whispers from a shaded path

beckoning with the promise of secrets

kept by shadows cloaked in black crow feathers

breathing their heavy dark sighs.

One hundred feet turns civilization

into a distant memory of ordered life;

a brief event in the lives of trees

who stood tall when humans were unknown.

The canopy is wrapped in warm sunlight...

tied loosely, allowing stray ribbons of gold

to drop through the leaves

and curl up to take a nap on the forest floor.

and the arms of the trees reach to embrace you and offer

a gift more precious than gold...

Sanctuary.

Winter Writings: Day 11

A brand new year, but for all the firecracker sparkle and big bang celebration at midnight, this day seems remarkably the same as the day before. The cats and dog seem nonplussed and the birds sing the same song as they did yesterday. Yet, as the clock chimed midnight, a neighbor went down the street telling everyone who would listen, "Happy New Year!! It's gonna be a great year!!"

I can feel that eternal hope in the air - I can taste the offer of better things to be. I see hope in each face I pass - that belief that against all odds, in spite of all that is wrong with the world and the horror stories sung by the scarecrow press - there is still, and always, hope. And hope can make all things possible.

Here's to a new year filled with hope. I, for one, would be content if the simple transition from one day to another could change my life for the better.

Happy New Year!!!

Winter Writings: Day 10

I feel it in the air
the ending of another year
the regret in a passing backward glance
the anticipation in a hurried step
an artificial boundary to give us all
a chance at redemption and change.

In the gnarled tangle of the streets
and still figures wrapped in grey mist thought
sipping coffee while memories flutter like old cinema
across the marquis
of pinched and worried faces

We prepare to close the door
with tight regret
yet growing anticipation
a prayer said for the rabbit year

Blueprints in journals
resolutions ensuring this will be the year
all things come to pass

We celebrate the finite
calendar of man

While cupped in the hands of infinite time.

Winter Writings: Day 9

Winter clouds;
old cotton rags that
wash the sky and
mop the grey from my soul,
leaving blue sunshine peeking through.

I stretch to meet the sun,
like a cat preening
in a pool of light,
trying to claim
an unexpected feast.

Too soon
purple clouds gather
and cover the sky with cold grey,
leaving the earth dressed
for a winter wedding.

I take shelter
in a cup of tea
and watch the children
rush to make angels
in the snow.

Winter Writings: Day 8

Morning

Grey light dances

Through the blinds

Velvet hues tease with promises

of new adventures

Beckoning...

I turn away and snuggle

deeper in my nest

reluctant to leave

the comfort of my cocoon

and the wild dark dreams

of midnight.

A warm moist nose

explores my face.

The sacred feline voice

speaks of tempting treats

left hidden out of reach...

Wake up and serve me, she says.

The voice of the goddess has spoken

My day begins

Winter Writings: Day 7

Someday, I think,
As I scurry about
Fulfilling each obligation
Meeting each deadline
Marching in perfect formation
As all good soldiers do.

Someday, I think
As I pay my bills
and follow directions
and live by the rules.
Making sure the neighbors don't think
or I appear in mismatched socks.

Someday, I think
when I get some time
I will take a chance
And dance with the fairies
in the dewdrop grass
and live my cupcake dreams.

Someday...

Winter Writings: Day 6

Like an old man hunched in his chair
A blanket of feathers gathered against the cold.

He sits in the gnarled fingers of a winter bare tree
waiting for breakfast to be served.

Two crows perch warily on a nearby branch.
and nervously preen; their eyes fixed on the winter worn hawk.

Hoping they aren't the daily special on the hawks menu...
But even so...daring him to catch them if he can.

Before the dusk sets on the river, liquid steel
on a gray December day.

Winter Writings: Day 5

Christmas Day eve...the packages have all been opened...the kitchen cleaned...the guests gone home to the satiated sleep of the overfed. The house is dark and quiet, except for the last muted carols singing softly from the flickering TV. I am curled up on the sofa with a hot mug of tea, wrapped in soft blankets and listening to the hesitant raindrops of a new storm coming.

I close my eyes and savor the memories of Christmas, both past and present. Of cherished friends and loved ones with whom I shared the day and those who were here only in memories. I hug each one in turn and tell them of my gratitude for being a part of the tapestry of my life, for without their strong thread, I would be in tatters. I thank them all for their strength without which I would not make it through the day. And I give blessings for the love we have shared with each other... and of the times love carried us through all manner of trials and tribulations.

We hug and clasp hands and promise to always be as we are at this moment. And then we smile and nod and hold our glasses to toast. To Christmas which lives always in our hearts and to a new year filled with the love we have for each other. For no matter what the new year brings, what we share in our hearts is the foundation of our future, the bedrock from which anything can be made possible. Merry Christmas!

Winter Writings: Day 4

Today, I rewarded myself for making it through another Christmas production season. All commissions are delivered. No other deadlines to meet. I decided to visit an antique store in a neighboring town and take a drive through the winter landscape.

But the traffic was horrible. People were rude. And I began to regret going out into the world when I could have nestled at home and watched the little juncos race the squirrels for seats at the bird feeders in the backyard. As the day went on, I felt a degree of sadness that the Christmas spirit of old seemed to be so lacking on this Christmas eve.

I drove out into the countryside to clear my mind and found a place off the road surrounded by trees to park. I closed my eyes and breathed deep of air redolent with the fragrance of pines and firs. I heard the birds sing and and the wind weave its music through the trees. The snow on the nearby hills filled my eyes with a wonderland of fresh, fallen snow. And I felt the tension and stress drain from my soul. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and found peace within that moment, the only moment in which I can be truly alive.

And I feel the East wind blowing cold...feel the heavy, grey clouds, pregnant with rain pressing down like a blanket covering the brown landscape. I smell the wood smoke of a hundred chimneys rise around me...and in the growing dusk, the lights of Christmas twinkling in the yards I pass...I see the children's faces alive with anticipation in the passing cars...hear the timeworn seasonal music everywhere in the air. And at a traffic light, I see a man jump out of his car to help a stranger push his suddenly inoperable SUV through the intersection. As the bring the car to a stop across the way, the men shake hands, say thanks and go on with their individual lives. And in that one generous act, I see Christmas come alive again for me.

May you all have a very merry Christmas, the happiest of times and the best of memories to cherish for years to come.

Winter Writings: Day 3

There are moments in time where all of our senses come together to memorize every nuance and detail of an experience. In that instant, there is no past or future; only that single moment - magic and beautiful - celebrating the intricate music of our lives.