A quote from Einstein to ponder about…

“Nature shows us only the tail of the lion. But there is no doubt in my mind that the lion belongs with it even if he cannot reveal himself to the eye all at once because of his huge dimension.” — Albert Einstein

POEMS: “The faces of deer”

Photo credit: Pinterest The Faces of Deer When for too long I don’t go deep enough into the woods to see them, they begin to enter my dreams. Yes, there they are, in the pinewoods of my inner life. I want to live a life full of modesty and praise. Each hoof of each animal…

POEMS: “INNOCENCE”

Photo credit: Pinterest INNOCENCE My gaze is clear as a sunflower. My way is to walk the roads Looking right and left And sometimes looking behind me… What I see at each moment Is that which I never Caught sight of before. I have the knack of full awareness The knack of essential astonishment That…

POEMS: “Long Afternoon at the Edge of Little Sister Pond”

Photo credit: Pinterest “Long Afternoon at the Edge of Little Sister Pond” As for life, I’m humbled, I’m without words sufficient to say how it has been hard as flint, and soft as a spring pond, both of these and over and over, and long pale afternoons besides, and so many mysteries beautiful as eggs…

POEMS: “Snow Geese” by Mary Oliver

Snow Geese Oh, to love what is lovely, and will not last! What a task to ask of anything, or anyone, yet it is ours, and not by the century or the year, but by the hours. One fall day I heard above me, and above the sting of the wind, a sound I did…

“Running on air and water”

“Running on air and water” Every year a given tree creates absolutely from scratch ninety-nine percent of its living parts. Water lifting up tree trunks can climb one hundred and fifty feet an hour; in full summer a tree can, and does, heave a ton of water every day. A big elm in a single…

POEMS: “One”…

Photo credit: Pinterest One The mosquito is so small it takes almost nothing to ruin it. Each leaf, the same. And the black ant, hurrying. So many lives, so many fortunes! Every morning, I walk softly and with forward glances down to the ponds and through the pinewoods. Mushrooms, even, have but a brief hour…

POEMS: “The Messenger”

The Messenger My work is loving the world. Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird  — equal seekers of sweetness. Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums. Here the clam deep in the speckled sand. Are my boots old? Is my coat torn? Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me keep…