10:30 a.m. Saturday, 1-8-2011 - Spiritual Nurture Group

Saturday, January 8, 10:30

Come and join us.  We gather
in silence
for forty-five minutes.

The furnace fan hums
faithfully behind us.

Outside the window,
cars roll by softly
back and forth
on the sunlit, snowbanked street.

In the silence, dross and cumber
of the week begins to settle
down out of awareness.

Our breathing slows and gentles.

Our hearts are let open.

4:30 going to the bus 1-7-2011

4:30 has come and, surprise!

It is still day outside.

Clouds still sunlit, sky

 Still light, not the deep dusk

 At this time, just weeks ago.


The pines near the bus stop, earlier blazed

At the end of the work-day --

Now the blue lights draped on them

Are soft and pale

As summer sky.

Nearly 8 - 1-6-2011 - pausing for a moment

1-6-2011

Yawning, honey-colored dog on my lap

Tang of orange tea on my tongue

From the pale cup that Michael made

On the radio, assured and lilting, piano dances

With oboes and strings - so familiar -

Then pounds to a close - it's Mozart

Coming to me live from Nashville

4:30 1-5-2011 Walking to my car along the riverbank

Each winter afternoon as dusk begins,

The crows come, calling

Calling, wheeling from downtown, flowing
Through the air in clusters,
In clans,  lone stragglers,
Going somewhere
I cannot follow

Some settle on trees
Along the riverbank, for a time,
Calling, calling --
Their profiles like furled
Black leaves

Then rise as one, calling,
And wheel away out of sight

Now a lone crow flies up
Silent, from the hill
Straight for the gathering grounds
Knowing the way

Click to enlarge -- the mass of birds are in the distance

 

5:30 p.m. 1-4-2011 - Driving home

1-4-2011 - Twilight drive home


Stopping the car, I step out

Three flags unfurl then twist about

In bitter wind from the river

My hands grow quickly painful

The cold almost a presence, a force -

Back in the car, warming up, but still

Around me the coming night, the weight of polar air.

Noon, 1-3-2011 - from my office window

                1-3-2011

                Trees sleep, turn inward

                Playground empty of children

                How hard to return to work

                From my mid-winter rest

10:00 a.m. 1-02-11 - morning sun

 January 2

In a puddle of sun, Charlie curls
Gazes blinking at me, then settles
Back into sleep - while outside
The white, ice-bound street
Is waiting

1:00 a.m. 1-01-11 at Hard Times

1:00 a.m. 1-01-11 at Hard Times

Behind us, bearded, burly,
Hunched over his work
He writes line after tiny-lettered line
So small the black script
I would need a magnifying glass to read it

Accepting the Challenge

Reading blogs until bleary,
I stumble on a challenge:
Share moments each day through January

Small stones

Perhaps they will shine
Perhaps they will sit gray and inward
Solid in my hand

(For more information about this writing challenge, go here.)