Fall and afterwards

Since my fall about 4 weeks ago I have not walked to the river until today. I walked halfway, easing my way slowly.

I felt good.

Yukka and palm trees shadow the sun

Thorns and leaves abound

Life.

Books I am reading:

Middlemarch by George Eliot

(with my Book Club)

Coming to Our Senses by Jon Kabat-Zinn

Walking

your eye catches 

light’s reflection on a spider web

a hammock hanging between 

a tree and fence

neurons interlaced to strengthen memory

a bridge for retrieval and deep learning

atoms, stars, horrors 

of war, how to be a shepherd

the interlacing of flowers, 

spices and herbs in a garden

flowers complementing appearances

and passion

plants to engender savory taste and texture

a simple life prepared a table of elegance

you resume walking

each step echoes

music of Beethoven, imaginative spark of 

Virginia Wolff’s stream of consciousness

to express  an exhilarating day.

Present Moment

How often do we return to a place of enchantment

How do we “recognize the infinite value of every moment”

Rilke says, we desperately try to hold these moments in our hands

Today in my walk I found 12 cents of coins on the ground

Place them among the fowers

A moment of happiness

Not because of the new found wealth

It completes the wholeness of the universe

A new day

The woman in red returns
Coins among the flowers
Rain drops from last night

A snail wandering

Morning Walk

58, cloudy, low tide

a woman and her daughter run

a dog runs with a red ball in his mouth 

he drops intermittently to keep up with his master 

A grandma pushes a stroller

two other children walking and talking

vultures hoover, ducks hurry on the river

My morning walk to the river

find excitement in the moment

experience the goodness of the earth

The Root of All Things

A man measures the distance between the trees

The distance of the trees from the path

The distance of the trees from the river

He looks at the sky

His mind can roam infinitely

“Leaving behind unilateral view of things”

Man is not the root of all things

He is not the measure of all things

He finishes his work

Returns home where he tends goats

And bees and grows a garden

He is the village philosopher.

A battered penny among the flowers

Flirtations

Should I haiku

my way to you

light bends

The apple falls

flowers attract butterflies

bees circle around

Mothers wonder

children run to sounds of  a waterfall

does enthusiasm measure distances

The kite laughs with the wind

free and unafraid

a boy watches

Inquisitive, often in motion

a bird moves from from to branch

to opening spaces

I decide to be better

procrastination flirts

catches my curiosity

The splendor of order

my thoughts and a nightingale singing

a pebble and thunder

The swan’s wings sweep the air

clouds coalesce like a quilt

the pond and I mirror the scene

The swan, lovely and silent

unruffled by wakes of passing boats

somewhere, a monk in contemplation.

Unafraid, swelling with confidence, she prays 

the snow falls on top of trees

first week of December

My strength begins

paddles breaks the water

the ducks glide

The bell’s sounds of angelus

a moment of remembrance

farmers stand silent on the field

With darkening sky

poetic storm enters her vision

sharp and exhausting

Bowls and fields catch raindrops

seasons of need

umbrellas cover workers’ heads

note: The photos were taken during my walk to the river. Books I am reading. Our Book Club decided to read Moby Dick.