Tree Wise

May 21, 2017.  In the Texas hill country,  massive live oaks spread their huge limbs at unusual angles.  Over time the weight of continued growth lowers them toward the ground.  Like gigantic vines, they swoop in strong winds. Hundreds of years old, survivors of many a storm.  But not invincible.  At Red Corral, a deck constructed less than 20 years ago rises alongside one of these live oaks.  Initially, there was no contact between tree and fence along deck’s edge.  But the tree kept growing, lowering.  Now fence cuts into bark, a gash that gives pause.  While wind blustered, I stood for a while listening to the tree moan, the fence creak – each stuck in their odd relationship.  (Ahhh… some “fences” in my space are beginning to feel like supports.)

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Here To There

May 11, 2017.  Reflecting on a day at Red Corral Ranch in the Texas hill country – I go every other month with a spiritual awareness group.  Last week, right after group reflection on a Stanley Kunitz poem – we went out into the May sunshine to spend some quiet solo time reflecting and observing.  Red Corral is home to a number of peacocks, noisy birds, calling back and forth to one another.  Their squeals are intense, sounding like “HELP” – mixing in with Kunitz words, the birds helped this poem emerge.  They reminded me who I am – poet.

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Reluctance

May 6, 2017.  Our Mexican Sunflowers began blooming early this year, bright spots, especially in a windy drizzle.  I noticed one bloom whipped by the wind, its petals all gone except for one – tenacious, flapping wildly like a kite unsure whether to soar or crash.  I went inside for the camera, expecting it to be blown away when I returned.  But no, still hanging on to its familiar center in spite of prevailing forces – seeming a model for fidelity to my core principles in the midst of a turbulent world.

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Breakage

April 26, 2017.  Rumi’s poem The Guest House is a touchstone for me, and arrived yet again in this morning’s email – redirecting my poem-in-process.  I’ve been fingering the remains of a plastic lens cover off one of the running lights on our travel trailer – sensing a poem lurking – not quite sure of is message.   We put the Casita (ours for seven years) up for sale, advertising “excellent condition”.  Prospective buyers enroute, and no way to remedy this unexpected flaw!  What to do but acknowledge its presence?  And, of course, assure a replacement would be factory-delivered to buyers’ door.

A happy ending: the sale went through – leaving me with three shards of amber plastic as tactile reminder to accept whatever intrudes, make no assumptions, and don’t panic.

To Read Rumi’s poem:  https://allpoetry.com/poem/8534703-The-Guest-House

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Energy Of Change

April 4, 2017.  Not typical Spring Fever!  My restless state stems from too many changes I am unable to influence – this urge to tackle something tangible, make something prettier, even if insignificant in the larger realm of unpredictables.   Why not transform a once-stately (still-comfy) rocking chair into a bright turquoise meditation station?

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