sometimes yes, please! and hope look a lot alike.
The door is gone.
The closet has been painted red.
New shelves await old books.
Books?
why not just read Me?
besides,
I can even re-shelve myself.
Can your library do that?
I AM
Rabbit.
we mother when we should befriend…
and sometimes we befriend when we should mother.
This bunny is not a child.
and your child is not a bunny.
every one is somebunny to someone –
but if we all have inner children,
what about our inner grownups?
We are all made in the image of the Divine.
why, yes..it is raining.
inside and out.
somedays are like that.
we all grow when watered well.
the rain pours down,
thunder and lightening crash outside
and you are no where around!
the corners of my mind begin a small prayer of concern –
but here in a small corner of the room,
i find You!
Peace.
some of us walk with determination and focus,
others sing and dance.
but even if you can not hear their music,
remember,
they might not be able to hear yours.
the blue eye met blue gill
in the bluest green
of
clearest waters.
sun streamed in around us
as we swam together,
Catfish and Bream,
Mullets and me.
baptized once again –
healed or spared by grace (take your pick)
and up above,
in the shadow of the sun,
Spirit soared.
her tail is like a soft white cloud
on which she floats
after a long day.
i have too have a soft cloud like tale
on which to float,
a story of hope
and dreams.
Be sweet.
today,
as i did my morning lauds,
i saw in the grass, a wasp and a spider
engaged in battle
royal.
it took me a moment to realize what i was looking at –
between the i and the thou
in this sacred space –
what is this before me?
what natural horror show?
the spider died, overcome with stings –
the wasp, however, flew to the top of a blade of grass.
short lived was any triumph.
for as i stared
he too, fell dead. landing beside the body of his opponent.
all life is struggling.
i stared harder.
my morning prayers forgotten in this curiosity of the moment.
and as i bent my head to look closer to look at the battle field before me –
a larger butterfly sailed between my eyes and the ground before me –
then fluttered up onto a white flower.
look up.
“transform,” she trailed after her.
Transform.
sun crow
slides down on a shaft of light.
Vilified and sanctified,
she lives in the spaces between.
Neither evil nor good,
She simply is.
Ministry of Animals 