Sunday, May 18, 2014

A winter secret

In the dark of winter
an eyelid is forming
In the quiet of winter
seeds are saved
In the storms of winter
a face sleeps
In the hail and bite of winter
a foot thumps
Winter's cloak
wraps around us
 while we wait.
The season's dark cave
spins a welcome of silk.

Can you guess the secret?

Friday, May 9, 2014

Looking for light

 Do you know that feeling, when you've had to withdraw from life for a while, to spend time in the shadows, and then you know it's time to emerge once more? The whole world looks brighter somehow. You see with fresh eyes. And you seek out what is light and bright, from the dramatic . . .
to the subtle, like the changeover period in the flame tree, when green leaves are replaced by yellow, disappearing foliage, and as if to compensate, the red flowers of winter come bursting out of hidden places . . .
The lemon trees coming into fruit at last, fill the air with a tangy scent . . .
Yes, dear friends, I've been recuperating from a little op that left me feeling weak and woozy. So when my friend offered to drive me to the gathering of our women's group, I was glad, for I felt my longing to be with the goddess once more. She stands, higher than life-size, holding up the crescent moon in our friend the sculptor's garden. We all took quiet time there before moving indoors.
The little one has lent me her Easter egg pouch. The Steiner School where she is a pupil, teaches the most wonderful crafts. And so for Easter, the children learned how to make their own eggs out of felt.
Little balls of light, tumbling out of the dark.
We may have crossed the threshold into winter now, but light still flares, in the jade plant, in the love of family and friends, in the magic of shared rituals, in the wonder of the changing garden, and the joy of recovery and healing.