long lost horizons
…places from so long ago
……grandma holding me
you can feel its eyes
…hungrily scanning the field
……red-tailed hawk in view
Beyond what we think in our heads,
An ever-present idea to which we cling,
Never separate from us,
Everything and nothing,
What we feel when there is love in our hearts.
…golfball plops in pond
……sleeping bullfrogs awaken
………golfer blames the pond
Are we so special
that the day should bow down to us,
and that we should look down upon
all that surrounds us?
Just for today,
I will honor all I encounter,
and I will try my best
to see the divine running through everything.
I will remind myself that life,
in all forms is special,
and that no form
is more special than any other.
Though blinded by my own eyes,
I will do my best today
to see myself in others,
and others in me.
legs rubbed together
…grasshopper calling its mate
……summer’s end coming
inward focused gaze
…walking the aetnaville bridge
……the way to wheeling
we want to be done with it,
before it’s done with us.
you reach a point,
even in the early stage,
where you want to believe
it’s just one big bad dream, and
hopefully you’ll awaken, and
you can return to your normal life–
the life you had before cancer.
but even if you’re lucky–
meaning your prognosis is very good–
you just want the bad dream to be over.
wistful dreams, childhood years,
caught in time, joyful tears,
memories hover in my head,
angels dancing, wings outspread.
no borders between realities,
ride the waves in the breeze,
then is now, and now is then,
back and forth, again and again.
grandma’s house now in view,
time tunnel opens, deja vu,
nighttime arrives, skies navy blue,
fireflies flicker, evening dew.
alarm clock rings, must arise,
in my heart, morning butterflies,
now is then, then is now,
face this day, i will somehow.
Delicately crafted Indian arrowheads,
razor-sharp flint projectile points,
primitive stone bullets,
hidden artifacts from long ago.
Eventually they call out to our curiosity
on hot and steamy summer mornings,
inviting us to freshly plowed cornfields,
where they’ve patiently slept for millennia.
You know they’re out there,
hoping to remain buried secrets, yet
wishing to be found, revered, and held excitedly
in eager young boys’ sweaty palms.
We hunted them as faithfully as
the ancient “arrowhead” men,
who hunted prey with bows and spears
in long forgotten grasslands and forests.
Something powerful awakens inside you
in realizing you are the first person
to hold this cool, jagged edged stone tool
since it was created 2,000 years ago.
Suddenly, you become aware that
nothing is really lost in our vast universe–
It is simply waiting for an inquisitive hand
to reach into the dark earth and bring it back to life.
heavy rain last night
…a fallen tree in the yard
……mourning doves watch on
blue heron take-off
…out-stretched wings soaring upward
in search of healing
…pilgrims on the camino
……pink flowered hillside
…crickets chirping in moonlight
from the forest edge
…listening to daisies sing
…moonlight’s soft rustles and creaks
……the moment brings peace
one swipe of truth’s sword
—past and future disappear
——leaving only now