State of the Garden
Beans, okra, cucumber, cherry tomatoes


Beans, okra, cucumber, cherry tomatoes


Precious are the mornings when the light is soft
And the air is gentle–for those who consciously clothe themselves
With respect for the intermarriage between
Their body and the day–and when the play of shapes and colors
In the sky and upraised trees dances visions
Of the vast creativity of Being. No doubts arising
Until one reads the news and, once again,
Must reconcile in heart and mind what is there with
The teachings that all is one and full of joy.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
I went down by the river and around through the neighborhood. Toward the end, I met some crows. They are watchful beings.

The space between the spheres thins and the wind creates passageways.
The spirits are outraged; how could they be otherwise? Their dance tramples
And blows things down, but still cannot help but create beauty.
The leaves–green, red, gold, brown from the drought, that distant memory–
Hang listlessly with the weight of rain and a bit of slush
Hardly even dancing in the wind, but still becoming perhaps
More extravagantly lovely by the storm’s grey light.