Bless the earth underfoot
the breeze on my neck
the still dawn
the open sky
the feather fall
the beetle climb
the crow call
the swift fly
the cloud drift
the rising sun
the golden field
the river run
the grass seed
the ripe plum

Bless this breath
this body
this good earth
this new day

I need these nightly rituals, now;
the damp smell of the earth
as I water the garden,
the happy presence
of seedlings sprouting,
a moment alone
with the new moon rising.
Noticing how,
wherever there are spaces,
Life fills them up.

I think
anyone who says
that miracles
aren't possible
must not have
planted
seeds

It is the seed moon,
the time of sowing.
The roads and skies
have grown quiet.
Sometimes in the stillness
I can feel the earth dreaming.

There are many things I can't do
in these strange times.
But I can plant seeds.
I hold them like prayers
in the palm of my hand,
I notice their shape and size,
the way they catch the light.
Their impossible promise.
I teach my children
to make wishes on them -
and I make wishes too.

I breathe my brightest,
most golden dreams
into these seeds,
dreams wild as sweet violets
on hidden forest floors.

Poppy, nasturtium, sunflower and sage:
bring nectar, food and medicine,
praise the sun.
Corn, squash, tomato and bean:
seeds of hope
for the creatures
and the wild places
and all those yet to come.

May this great pause
be a seed itself
for the beautiful future
which wants and waits to be born.

I think anyone who says
that miracles aren't possible
must not have planted seeds.

I sat down with grandmother oak
there on a blanket she had woven
of clovers and sweet violets
where the fat bees cobble about.
She wrapped me in her scented boughs
and gently held all parts of me –
the flesh, the brittle fragments,
the embers, the salt water and the bone –
with soft and steady breaths she blew
the shadows from my shoulders
and asked only in return of me
that I might be with her a while and,
in ancient, long-forgotten psalms,
that she might sing me home.

I caught it once,
that small, delicate pause:
a hummingbird moth
kissing a white flower
just as the last stars were fading
and the soft exhalation of the day
tumbled forth.
There was no fanfare,
no glorious sunrise -
just a quiet voice which whispered:
Listen; the earth
dreams through you.

walk with me by night
where snow falls soft
on the silent city streets

do not tell me
peace is impossible
do not tell me
this broken world
cannot be healed

Come,
walk with me
by night
where snow falls
soft on the silent
city streets.

Do not tell me
peace is impossible;
do not tell me
this broken world
cannot be healed.

Herringbone clouds drift in infinite seas
A perfect half-moon in a cosmos blue sky
Elderflowers float to the earth at my feet
Cat slumbers, sun-baked, white among sage and thyme
Green-glorious symphony of breeze, birds and bees…

someday
we will walk
in meadows
drenched in
sun

someday
the doors
will fall open
at our feet

someday
we will
find home

we are / not designed / to sit / hunched and / shallow / eyes bleeding / from silent screaming / as the / world / burns

we are designed / to run / through / fields of / luminous poppies / breathless / dancing like / diamond / light / on a sea / of glass pebbles

Afterwards,
doves were given seats in parliament.
Growth was measured in forests,
greed was a treatable condition and
the only religion was love.
An economy based on death was unthinkable.

The great spirits gathered themselves
once more and proceeded like clouds
moving over the mountains, returning
to the lands of the ancestors, lighting
fires along the way for each of
those that did not make it.

The time of remembering came and went
like a storm or a dream, as all things do,
unfolding crease by crease like a sail in the wind.

That was where we met, your dad and I,
in a field some time after the sunrise.

The wonderful, vivid mystery of the night
Wants us to love it. The blackbird singing
In the shimmering sigh of evening
Doesn't know the prisons we built
When we set ourselves apart from the clouds
And the dew and the thundering rivers.

If she does, she sings all the same.
The earth goes on, falling in love with the sky
Day after day, over and over again,
Inviting us into the hope of each new sunrise.

The ancient trees whisper their stories
Of Brahma's great eye opening and closing,
Of Indra's jewels glittering away in some
Giant, starry web, and it's a gift, all of it,
Held together by threads of breath and light.

Even if it is all you can do
To breathe, to be, among all this:
The light will find you, dear one, and
You are the opposite of alone.

The cat brought in a songbird today.
Unharmed, the tiny brown thing darted
Up to perch beside the cactus on the top shelf.
Silence. But for the dreary hum of the
Television and the tumble dryer. How dull
To him our world must seem, I thought,
How full of corners and clutter and dust.
I opened the front door and out he flashed,
Leaving strangeness for the wild autumn sky.

I want to grow old with you
To see your eyes shine
Though your skin grows thin
And wrinkles like paper
And your eyebrows get bushy
And your ears grow bigger

I want to grow old with you
To sit hand in hand on the verandah
Drinking cold beers in the evening sun
Looking out over the golden fields
Picking off rabbits with a rusty old gun

Perhaps we'll live by a vineyard
Or in a house beside the sea
When the world has done with us
Let's travel about in a creaky old bus -
Doesn't much matter if it's you and me

I want to grow old with you
Let's get over the hill and enjoy the view
And when the chill winds blow in
We'll always have stars
And fires in our hearts
And all the riches money can't buy will be ours
And life was a dream
Spent wisely and well
For wanting to grow old with you.

I could not write so I walked
Through fields of diamonds where
Luminous poppies danced for me
But I did not stop
Only when I reached the woods
Did I hear the rain cast down
Over each leaf, each branch, singing
It is enough to be;
Only then did I look up
And see the stars -
Each one bound to me
By a single, tight thread of light
Each one humming
It is enough to be
Were only the skies to clear,
Were only the clouds to pass.