May 23: Old Mulberry Tree

After a hard rain, an old mulberry tree

behind the church fell down and took

another tree with it amid a small stand

of trees near the backyard property line.

Some of the trees predate the church

building, which is some 106 years old,

and others are newer, scrubbier trees

that have grown and thrived, largely

unnoticed by anyone and cared for

by no one. Still, we deliberate carefully

before deciding to remove these trees

because they are living things, more

firmly rooted and at home in this place

than we are, and more deeply connected

to all other living things than humans

choose to be. And so we breathe and pray.

Popular posts from this blog

May 4: Look Up

Look up! Entire worlds exist  up above your downward gaze— worlds of branches and leaves, worlds of falcons and finches, worlds of cumulus and cirrus, worlds of gusts and breezes, worlds of distant imaginings that might just lift you higher even unto the holy mountain.
Read more

January 1: I Shall Write Each Day

As long as mind and body allow, I shall write each day. As much as we attempt to put time into a box or straighten it into a line, the circle keeps going round, propelling the spiral of my life ever outward until the final revolution, which, even then, may not be the end. Unless and until gyrations cease, I shall write each day. And maybe every now and then something beautiful may emerge, something healing, something that sings and shouts and cries.
Read more

January 30: Awfully Cold

The minus sign in front of today’s temperature in degrees Fahrenheit seems like a judgement as much as a measure, as if the thermometer were saying that it’s so awfully cold, we can’t place it on the acceptable range of measures, can’t imagine how it relates to anything like normality. But the weather, uncaring, goes on, utterly heedless of our ability to cope with it.
Read more