Reverb10 – December 4 – Wonder

They come in elfin packages
diminutive gifts
from glass houses radiating promises of miracles
And I wonder
         Will they grow?

I loosen the new roost, cold and loamy
hallowing a spot,
height and width eyed to perfection
I wonder
         Will hail pulverize my dream this time?

No bigger than my palm
squeezing then shaking
loosening the anchor
I wonder
         Will my spring zeal linger until fall?

White roots twining
round and round
searching for space, reaching for more
I wonder
         Will summer’s rage wilt or inspire greatness?

Humus now to blanket the innocent
Dampened in baptism
Not to initiate but to nourish
I wonder
         Did He feel the same when He made me?

December 4 – Wonder. How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year? (Author: Jeffrey Davis)

Reverb10 – December 3 – Moment

A moment. How do I look back through an entire year to find a single moment? Not wanting to relive the despondence, I am embarrassed to delve back into this year.  I am afraid of what I may find.  Is it possible my wallowing in the muck did not allow the moments of sweet rain to cleanse me of the sticky gloom that enveloped me?  As I step back to search for a moment of feeling alive, I must incise the crust covering the undiscovered moments and allow their gifts to finally be received…
As I turned off the highway, I searched for the road that would take me to my destination.  Driving the outer edge of Pueblo, I could see in the distance the land offering its spirit to me.  It is the land of pinyon and pungent sage.  The azure sky cradling wisps of clouds.  It is a land with points of orange and flecks of purple rolling up to the feet of soaring peaks. It is usually the similar scape of the New Mexican reach calling my name.  But today, this earth is close enough, almost close enough to call home.
My second turn transforms into a passage towards a new existence, a new me.  The road is true, no twists to lead me astray.  The dwellings of the urban locus give way to my haven where black birds lead and wind waves through the grasses.  It is here I breathe.  It is a craving for this arid place that gives me peace.  Big water also beckons me, with rushing waves rising to fear in my soul.  The water will take me someday, but it is the desert that is for living.
It is here my heart steps down to a halcyon rhythm.  My hands relax their grip.  It is here I will find her, the calm and the answer.  This land will give to me again what I crave.  I must listen.
As the road begins to turn away, the first augury is whispered.  My destination is no longer a promise of open skies and dusty earth.  No longer the short growth of the pinyon hugging my path, but lanky pinery closing around me as the sky looses its breath.  Tighter and tighter I am enveloped in mysteries of the forest not offered to me.  This is a place for others who touch this spirit, not me.  I drive higher and higher, not heeding the warning.
I did meet her here.  I couldn’t bring the rusty clay onto this fertile soil, but I could mold a fortress around my heart.  An opening cleared of forest then used for dwelling was the meeting place.  With eyes closed and rhythmic breath, I saw her, a woman wise and beautiful with adobe hands, a herald.  An identical twin of me, with adobe hands.  Listen to the wise woman and I will be new.
And harbinger three, an owl leading the way at eventide.  Wings spread the breadth of my view and bowsprit pointing to the winding course back to the expanse of prairie clover and coneflower.  Listening, I finally made my way in the early dawn back home with a new friend, a twin of sorts. 

I am my wise woman.

Reverb10: December 3 – Moment. Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors). (Author: Ali Edwards)

Reverb10 – December 1 – One Word

Something inside me stirs when I think of creating.   This was my year to realize that I create.   I am not necessarily one who creates from nothing.  I am one who takes stuff and puts it together to create new stuff.  I draw my inspiration from things that are already there and make them mine.  I am a thief of sorts.  Not malicious, just a bit mischievous.  I put my twist on them.  I shake them up big or give them a little push.  When I am done, I am full, satisfied.
I explored many modes of creation this year.  On the heels of the Colorado Writing Project, I started two blogs – one for educational eulogizing and one for creative writing.  I explored Photoshop Elements and used those skills, plus my newly found passion for writing, to create a movie under the guidance of The Center for Digital Storytelling.  I began a “quilt” of sorts with chicken wire and bits of fabric cut from the costumes I created for Merry-Andrew Afoot children’s theatre.  I had to release that part of my life’s creating, as there was no longer storage space for the costumes I designed and built over the years.  I finally learned how to wrap wire to connect beads and not settle for just stringing them.  I started a writing group that meets on Wednesdays.  I stepped out of my comfort zone and took a class with real writers.  Humbling experience.  I am the better for it.
            By this time next year I want to be exhausted, not from worry, nor from work.  I want to be filled with the joy of following my bliss.  I will write this year, starting with this project.   I will allow myself the time to frolic putting words to paper.   I will photograph and wallow in the enchantment of placing images to my satisfaction, not keeping them where they are supposed to be.  I will be poet and artist with abandonment.

I fly to the moon and pluck Venus from its address
And place it round my wrist with amethysts and silver.
I weave colors of rainbows from bits and scraps of trailing remembrances.
I cobble my words with humble gratitude toward the muses.
I create and revel in the jubilance of invention.  

Author’s Note:
Today’s prompt from Reverb10:
December 1 One Word.
Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you?
(Author: Gwen Bell)