Looking at the calendar, over a month has passed since my last post here. Where does the time go? I would like to say that I was in the midst of some grand adventure, but that would not be true! Life. Just life happening, and dealing with the daily grind, the obligations, and the 9-to-5. It can be a challenge to keep grounded and your head above the water. Venturing further into my 40s, I am becoming more aware of this struggle, and questions of what next. What do I want the next chapter in life to look like, what story will it tell?
At the end of each day, what keeps me sane and going, are these 2 goofballs, and all their antics, barking, and playtime.
The sunless grey sky
releases an afternoon rain
pushing leaves beginning to transition
to bright yellows and deep reds.
Each drop’s ripple in the pond,
each leaf that falls through wind and rain
a reminder of nature’s course in time
and the fragile thread we all cling to.
When my mind becomes scattered,
when each of the thoughts I held
in my core is lost to the wind,
I seek out answers and resolutions
from the natural world.
On mornings when the grey sky
covers the sun and the forest
lives in its own green exterior,
the cold air lays upon the skin,
and you know that rain is near.
Each drop a fragment of some
larger being or existence beyond
this world and my body reacts to the cold
by reassembling the core and bringing
this being back into a whole form.
Storms rolled through last week.
Weak and old trees toppled to the ground or fell into a neighbor or
landed on the wire fencing with the orange flags.
Near the pole barn smaller trees were uprooted but the metal roof
still looks new, the green roof glistening when wet.
What little birch are mixed with the pine
still stand, their white and grey skin
shining through the green mass.
As the last snow flake and ice crystal
recede into the mountains
thoughts turn to what is left,
the next tasks to be completed,
the chores we must do to
prepare the land for planting
and the spring rains bringing joy
to the crops and the children.
Winter is finally put to rest, for now,
as the sky turns black
and the forest bends
in the hour filled
with frequent strikes
and increasing intensity,
the dry earth quick
to give up secrets,
quick to burn
before the rain arrives.
the ever-present past
the overgrown fields
the moments we do not allow
ourselves to forget to let go
washed out to sea.