Trembling What I notice first is the trembling, like a piano player trilling the high notes, Art Tatum levitating the house, and the house is the sea, flickering with those bright notes, and the
When I Think of the World When I think of the world and all of us in itI see a young father lifting an infantout of her stroller as people go hurrying byand the flash of what shines from
Imagining is our only hope, Obi-Wan Kenobi So I will hold fast to imagining the world I want, and speak my dreams, and look for yours
Jump I have just heard from a most reliable source, that from the perspective of the universe, a second of our time can contain an age...
Everything is Trembling Everything is trembling, like plants in time-lapse films, the first green shoot shaking as if with fear, as it climbs up out of its dark dirt bed. . .
Homecoming . . .And swings. Please let there be swings. Let there be picnics. And hiding places when life is hard and the only one you can face is your tree. . .
The Muslin Dress Dance I was struck dumb. I was so angry I had no words, our usual kids' phrase, "that's not fair" as totally inadequate as waving a hankie to stop a bull.
Meeting at the Brook It is the blinking of a firefly's light. It is the x that marks the spot on the treasure map that says, dig here. It is the fairy in the woods signaling, follow me.
Rock, Sky, Water Up the hill, through the field gate and then down the slope. We are lost in the country behind wild hedges, total freedom from roads or eyes.
The Sequence of Reflections We come out here, though, for some good reason, these distances that stand in for a spiritual path, these ways of going away, backtracking to some fork in the road you must have passed in the dark. . .
Message in a Bottle His body looked like a starving man, but his smile dispelled any worry about his well-being, as if he, alone in the whole village, knew the secret to happiness.
St. Helen's Well After all, I was a very good girl and never told lies and could see no difficulties on the road to sainthood. . .
The Deathless Bird I close my eyes and go in search of where I've stored the memories of moments that can't be put into words. . .
Every Breathing Thing I don't care if you want to call me crazy,/ but this silken roof-top breeze is a living presence. . .
Cloud Mail You took my hand and then the other one too, and said, 'You're swell, you are. You're the only one here I can talk to. I'd feel lost if you weren't here.' I wanted to kiss you but Mommy always told me don't be forward, they'll think you're cheap.
Connection When I think of connection, I find myself in a cattailed stream full of croaking life and healing mud and swooping shadows cast by red-winged blackbirds.
Lessons from the Milky Way White was not so much a color, or, as some say, the absence of color, as it was a feeling under my fingertips when I touched the outside of our house. . .
Like a Papier Mâché Horse I awoke at what I guessed was about an hour before dawn. I heard no shrill, drunken voices shouting good night or getting the last word in an argument that started before the pubs closed.
My Daughter's Wisdom I go blind sometimes in the face of great beauty. It could be a river gorge, the cathedral of a forest, or a sunset singing its heart out. . .
