Echoes of a Season

The last of the Fall leaves
let go, falling to the ground
Bare branches stretch,
reaching toward the Sun

Wonders hidden in the
heart of the tree, protected
from the elements at
their most vulnerable,
now sit in plain sight

A carefully woven nest that
once held delicate eggs,
patient parents and fragile
chicks-now, its walls hold
only the echoes of life

The cracking of shells
by tiny beaks, little chirps
sweetly announcing
We have arrived!
Sleeping, eating, growing, learning to fly

Whether the leaves,
The mama bird, or
each of us-Letting go is difficult
But, oh, what wonders
wait to be revealed

May my hands always
stretch toward the Light
as my heart remains open
to that which needs protecting-
Even when only for a season

Happy Christmas Eve! ❤️💚

Simply Sunday

Photo by Paul Porter

Always a welcome guest
Your brightness,
not to be ignored

As you gently alight
on the fence
I catch my breath

You seem to smile as
Snowflakes land on
your scarlet feathers-
A perfect contrast

Perhaps that is why
You so often shake
me out of my grief

Taken back by your beauty,
I sweetly reminisce
And for just a moment,
See the faces of those I miss

Bits of Rock

Suddenly, it was dark

Only moments before, I
watched the sky transform
from grayish-blue
to pinkish-orange

But now, from this vantage,
The sky is pitch-black

Strange, how artificial light,
created to erase darkness, actually
blocks billions of brilliant lights

Lights that serve as a guide
through the darkness

Could it be that progress
keeps us from the wonder
of lying on our backs,
the hardness of the ground
underneath us, unnoticed

Watching the bright lights
from dying bits of rock fly
across the night sky

Greetings


A gentle wave from
soft pink threads
across the morning sky

Trees smiling from
their reflection in
the rippling river

Four tiny birds
playing leapfrog
on a high wire

Sunbeams dancing
through clouds to
touch my face

Greetings arrive in many forms
Traveling from varying locations

An apricot sunset
smiling in assurance
of a day well-lived

Its warmth surpassed
only by your smile as
you walk the path
toward my heart

Frosty

The early frost’s attempt to
highlight the remaining blades
of grass was quickly
thwarted by an intrusive
morning mist.

But even the mist was
unsure of its place
in the day’s landscape.
There was no line to
distinguish between it and
the lowering clouds.

A brief feeling of panic
eased as the morning
wrapped around me
like a cozy blanket.

Only my eyes, nose, and
mouth visible. And,
of course, my breath-
adding to the frosty
warm surroundings.

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The Valley


The snowy owl sleeps
through the day,
resting her wings,
her body, her eyes

She waits until darkness
falls to take flight

What path will she take this night?
The familiar line following trees
along the river and up
into the mountains?
She knows it well

But something stirs her, gently
ruffles her feathers-Calling
her out of the familiar
and into the Valley

Not a sad place, but
a place to grow –
until once again, the sun
rises and she sleeps

Simply Sunday

Photo by Paul Porter Red-winged Blackbird

In Plain Sight

Perched atop golden,
fluffy cattails, confidently
exclaiming, Here I am!
Crimson red wings,
glowing in contrast to
his black-as-night body.

There is no mistaking him,
and I think he knows it.

His ability to remain
perfectly balanced on
such a fragile stage.
His “I did it my way”
anthem soaring across
the field, remarkable!

I’m not sure whether
to bow, smile, or perhaps
simply call Bravo! Encore!

Hold My Hand

Days when the sun and clouds
clasp hands in such a way
It is nearly impossible to
distinguish billows from blues

Sunlight, bright and warm,
shines on, around, and
through layers of clouds,
stirring imagination-

Today was such a day

After grabbing my attention,
and coaxing a smile, my
thoughts shifted to the
reason for their beauty

The simple sharing of space-
Each taking their turn to
enlighten, offer shade,
or shine a spotlight

Days when we clasp hands
In such a way, it is nearly
Impossible to distinguish
Your heart from mine

Graceful Drifting

Driving away, I saw you
in my rearview mirror.
I wanted to keep looking,
to appreciate and study.
But that was not possible.

Watching the road and all.

So, I smiled, taking note
of your blue feathers
and gentle waves.
Your perfect placement
in the afternoon sky.
I would do my best
to remember, making sure
my eyes remained on the road.

Until I changed direction
and your position shifted.
Gracefully, you drifted,
from behind me,
to be beside me, and finally
directly in front of me.
I followed you all
The Way Home- Grateful

Simply Sunday

Photo by Paul Porter

Iris and Bee

Rolling flutters
of soft purples and
sweet floral aromas
call tiny tarsus
in for a landing—
Fortitude in frailty
for both Iris and Bee.

Wings excitedly buzz.
Precious nectar and
baskets of pollen are
carefully collected—
Valuable resources for
sharing and sustaining
a beautiful partnership.

Security in the hope
of their survival
across the flourishing
of each new rolling
purple flutter and
tiny buzzing bee.