Blessings

(check out the second little guy under the feeder)

Hummingbirds at the feeder,

horses in the field,

spring blossoms

scenting the air 

as twilight falls......

stepping out my door,

I am bathed

in blessings.

Diversions on the Path

shutterstock.com

Diversions, distractions, on the path?

Traveler, diversions are the path. 

We take the offshoot, circle back, resume the trek again.

The journey loops and backtracks to make necessary gain.

Traveler diversions are the path.

There is no way made straight from here to there.

The journey loops and backtracks to make necessary gain.

You have to circle to get anywhere.

There is no way made straight from here to there.

Seek here, seek there, for it is all The Way.

You have to circle to get anywhere.

And when you weary, Traveler, stop and pray.

Seek here, seek there, for it is all The Way.

We take the offshoot, circle back, resume the trek again.

And if you weary, Traveler, stop and pray,

when you encounter those diversions on the path.

Susan at Poets United's Mid-Week Motif, asks us to ponder distractions, or stops along the way. Hmmmm.......as my path has been long.....one would think there must be some material back there somewhere......I decided to try a pantoum, just to make it more interesting.

April

Beau

April is.....

horses in the bare winter paddock,

looking longingly over the fence,

willing the grass to grow.

for Words Count with Mama Zen, over at Real Toads

(Buried) Treasure

I carry my heart

in solidarity 

with a small sister in Afghanistan,
in Nepal, in Brazil,
in Haiti, in Africa,

who wants to go to school,

but who may not,

since she is not a boy,

who must cover herSelf and serve,

yet in whose heart

a dream of More still burns.

Each small girl, 

surviving in servitude,

each girl devalued,

set aside, married young

to serve her youth away....

each girl, a treasure,

so often unclaimed,

one day,

on her journey,

will discover her true worth

lies not in how she is seen,

or in the life she is forced to endure,

but in the qualities that

lie within her heart and mind:

courage, fortitude, strength,

her soul a temple

of inner light.

Wayfarer, watch closely,  for,

before your eyes,

one day, 

against all odds,

 this girl will

Rise.

"A girl is not defined by what her society sees.
A girl is defined by what she sees inside herself".
from the documentary Girl Rising

Kids, I watched Girl Rising yesterday and it is a wonderful documentary, by Richard Robbins, poetically showing the lives of girls in developing countries, so many millions of whom long, but cannot afford, to go to school. They live lives of servitude and of not being valued. But those girls to whom a miracle happens, who get a helping hand, oh how they rise when they are offered a way out and grasp that moment. A fantastic film which would certainly make our privileged kids sit up and take notice of just how lucky they are.

posted for Mary's prompt at dVerse: Treasures. I do have a lot of personal treasures. But having seen this film, it made me think of the buried treasure that lies in the hearts of millions of girls all over the world.

Old Letters

My grandmother's letters

followed me everywhere.

They were her eyes, her conscience,

keeping me on the right path.

Sometimes, they burned.

Mostly, they said, "I understand."

They were typewritten, 

stream of consciousness,

all one sentence, 

full of whatever was happening,

which continued 

to the bottom of the page

and closed, mid-thought,

with her scribbled "Grandma"

crowded on an angle

into the right hand corner.

And I would give anything

to hold just one of them

once more

in my hand.

posted for Fireblossom Friday's prompt at Real Toads : to write about a letter.

A Fool for Beauty

Sproat Lake in February

I am a fool for the night sky,

giant cedars black and tall 

against the backdrop

of stars and clouds and moon.

I am a fool for the croaking of the frogs

lifting from the pond like a song of survival,
at twilight,

as every spring, I fall in love again.

I am a fool for birdsong at morning,

and the miracle that is

the hummingbirds

returning to the feeder.

Am I repeating myself? 

Have you heard all this before? 

I can't help it, for I am a cloud dreamer,

and every wispy breath of mist 

against the mountain 

stops me in my tracks, while I drink my fill.

I am a fool for believing

that the beauty of the earth

means it will endure,

no matter how humans

devastate its balance,

a fool for hoping that somehow, 

at the eleventh minute 

of the eleventh hour,

we will all wake up in time.

I am a fool for thrilling at babies' smiles

and trusting there will be a world safe enough

for them to grow up in,

because their innocence deserves it

and I need that hope.

I am a fool for 

every pair of trusting doggy eyes

I gaze into,

because dogs are all about the Love,
and I am a fool for love.

I am a fool for putting these words

into lines, and thinking it makes a difference,

and a fool for coming back later

and smiling at the responses

which tell me that, sometimes, it does.

I am a fool for this

can't-get-enough, not-long-enough life

in this beautiful, tumultuous, breathtaking world,

where there are not words enough,

not time enough,

to list its wonders.

for Susan's Mid-Week Motif at Poets United: to write about what one is a fool for. 
I am a fool for just about everything! Be sure to check out the links at Poets United - there will be some wonderful responses, as always!

DOGS ARE LOVE BUDDHAS

My friend Andrew's dog, Kasha

If you want to learn about love,

adopt a dog,
especially a rescue dog,
who will be astonished and grateful
at the transformation of his life
from hardship to safety.

Look into those warm, accepting, trusting eyes,

that love you unconditionally,

even when you feel most unlovable,

that know you will care for him

even when you feel too discouraged

to  care for yourself,

that think you are perfect

just the way you are,

when everyone given the gift of speech

assures you

you are lacking 

in every possible direction,

and that your entire life

has been a big goof-up.

When you are sitting,

head in hands, heartsick,

see how he comes over to you,

doesn't push or clamor for attention,

doesn't insist you get over yourself,

doesn't discredit your feelings,
replacing them with his feelings,

just - accepts, and, 
by simply sitting beside you,

resting his big heavy head on your knee,

offering his compassionate and understanding sigh,

says what you wish human beings 

knew how to say more easily:

"It will be all right. I'm here."

Dogs are Love Buddhas.

They come to show us

how Love is 
supposed to be
done.

posted for the prompt at dVerse Poets Pub: to write about an animal. Be sure to check out the links, there will be some great responses. There always are, at dVerse. And Happy Poetry Month, fellow poets!!