Discovering Beauty in Everyday Life

The day before rain

TWEET!!  Is that the same dull winter sparrow bursting with life like a happy bud? Is that me, with clumps of spirit blossoms resting in my hand? Me, with a new leaf painted in my soul? Reservoir April 2016

Jiggity, Jaggity Jergety,  hoo! I’m bringing a pizza to you, to you. There’s ice, there’s snow No safe place to go I’m lost in the fog I’m stuck with this job I’m trapped out at night I’m getting frost-bite I’m ready to sob I’m too old for this job!! The pizza is cold. You’ll have to be told  You’ll have nothing to eat I can’t find your street! I just want to go back to Peru, Peru I want to go back to Peru!

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I wander through the apple shadows, stepping into the secret garden Fall chrysanthemums are stiff with color Grasses are drying their stalks for winter Is that an orangy goldfish there or a patched up dappled catfish? Either way, I let it sink amid the leaves and lilies. I close my eyes and feel a quiet melting in my frozen solar plexus I may have dozed, I'm never sure A puddle full of splashing sparrows wakes me up. There's something familiar about that tweet! “Ounce?” "Ounce!" “You’re wet and cold! you’ll catch a chill!" Come here!“ I don’t know what made me scold that way It’s just I miss Ounce so and didn’t even know it. Embarrassed by my burst, I try to slink away, when I feel a small wet weight upon my shoulder -- “Ouch! You bit me!" Before I can move a retaliatory inch Ounce settles down for a soggy shoulder nap, and There isn’t anything else to do Except to take a leafy walk in the golden speckled afternoon.

It was one of those delicious days when the sun lit up the soul. I was skipping along on my favorite path, when I chanced upon a something in the road before me. So of course I stopped to make sure it wasn’t an endangered species. Well! One poke  told me I should be wary. I heard a sharp squeaky growl and felt a nip on my toe. I knew then it had to be an omen; you do not get stopped with a nip on the road for no reason at all. Growl wobbled over to the edge of the path, and of course I had to follow. We were at a clearing in the underbrush guarded by a low pile of nature-hewn rocks. I reached down to carry Growl, who gave me a parting nip on the finger and disappeared in a tiny whoosh. Nevertheless, I picked my way over the rocky pile and fell into a divided world. I wanted to go right with all my might, where the colors were tipped and burnished with life, yet there I was inexorably heading towards the left-most shadow lands. Deeper and deeper I journeyed, and there in

Fractals! They’re those never-ending patterns that “display self-similarity…in all scales”. In mathematics, a self-similar object is exactly or approximately similar to a part of itself.* Is there no rest for the self-centered? Do you want to know how to be a fractal? Just do the same stupid thing over and over! And this rainbow we are talking about. There is the very same self-similar rainbow in each tiny droplet and packet of drops and fountain of drops! And there you have the essence of it; the soul of it if you will. The rainbow, in fact,  is immortal. Do you remember how to discover a rainbow? First locate body of water (a dew drop will do). Position yourself between the drop and the sun, and sooner or later there it will be. Of course it’s been there all along. A soul waiting for the right circumstances. Fractal Fountain in the Italian Garden of the Conservancy; Central Park *Somewhere on the web…

Mourning Dove rests at evening in the Secret Garden sparrow pool Mourning Dove in Secret Garden

Once upon a time, long before now, When the grass was as green as a lollypop~ Off we went down the sidewalk edge, looking for a piece of eternity. It was a popsicle day, With trees saturated in summer~ Sidewalks so hot you needed shoes, You could fry an egg if you wanted, they said. We were warned of course, about crossing the street, We were threatened, coerced and cautioned~ Of course we crossed it anyway, As we scattered away that diamond day.

Off to school with sharpened promises. Seeking a simple space reserved for me. Oh how I wished and waited, loved and prayed. May I have a pleasant dream, a morning full of breezes? Now and then a glance my way, shooting light through a hidden shard. How I wanted to pursue you-- Where was that spark inside my soul, Whispering through the painted leaves-- “I love you” “You can count on me”

Happy Slightly Blurry August morning at Sabarskies.

Screeching back into the moment I spot a leaf against my window pane, an ivy sprig caught behind the window box, stained glass catching sunbeams, (Well, it isn't really glass but it captures colors just the same) View from Living Room...

Wake up! The day comes up anyway the same old cracked-up dawn. Same concrete against the stumpy flowers dry as summer. What happened to all the maybes, All those forks to choose from? Fork one fork two; one-a-fork two-a-fork The trouble is, we resonate with beauty, Seeking the mending way I have a certain feeling in the bone. It came on cell by cell, raising me up a half an inch at a time. United Nations ~ November 2014

Let the plant wither if it must, the seed fell days ago; Stuck in a pod, half blind, trapped in a cold puddle, Like some muddied, pock-marked, leftover snowball. Too dismal to throw. I have nothing to do but hibernate. What am I some kind of iced-over, frost bitten hedgehog? I’m shrinking!   How can this be with all these trickles? I’m down to a husk of a thing, rattling around like some blind-sided snail. I’m dying out here! Or  maybe drying; at least things are improving, I mean how can I do anything about it? OUCH! I’ve been crunched by a rabid runner and stuffed into a furrow! I think I’ll cry...yes... Wait a minute, what is that streaming stuff? Is it dirt?   Is it Sun?   Is it Rain? I’m growing!  Help! I’m being resurrected! ckr.com/496/19465894059_7431b11602_c.jpg" width="530" height="800" alt="20150709-DSC_6974">

I came across a gift the other evening, among the discards and the wannabes, My #2 New York Kentucky Coffee tree, with pods for the very first time. Cool to the touch, leaves as soft as a kitten, Powder on the underside, sleek and satin on the top. Translucent in the pale evening. Swirling and singing, each leaf an instrument, weaving up a fractal symphony.   An instrument of the wind, certain in the late afternoon. New York Kentucky Coffee Tree, Summer 2015