Ball and cup

Do you remember the ball and cup game from childhood?

The dog in the cone can not reach her stuffed rat

Her favorite!

Slowly, she tries

Until

Scoop!

Toss!

Success!

Repeat

And squeak!

We can all still play, we just have to discover how.

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Recalls

I enter into the light,

I call out

You come

Tail up and purring

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Trash?

What do you mean trash can?

I thought it was a toy barrel!

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Tillers of the Soil

They come

They come 

Dancing through the meadow 

Covered with seeds of possibilities,

Spanish Needles, beggars ticks, Carolina Geraniums,

And all the splurges,

Purslane delicacies drape across silky fur,

Goose grass also called cleavers

And Chickweed

And then they dig

Deep into soft sandy loam

Leaving scatterings of weed pods 

As they seek..

What?

Frogs? Moles? The simple joy of the Earth?

We sow far more than we reap,

Let us be aware,

We are all tillers of the soil.

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Here/Hear

Standing outside

I hear You

Standing outside

I am here.

I can not see You,

I can not touch You,

But the sound of your song

And the beat of your wings

Assures me

Although sequestered

I am not alone.

You are here, too.

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Fields of healing

Out in a field

They walk,

One leashed,

One tethered by love.

One wears a cone

Not of shame,

But of healing,

The other does a healing dance

Amidst the flowering weeds

While the man patiently strolls

Under the healing sun.

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Flights

Overhead

Wings of all sizes

Beat a rhythm of life

And cover the ground with shadows of flight

Honor all paths

Oh gracious Goodness

Please protect us on our fragile journeys.

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