Terminal Origin




They sat atop a peak
above swings and slide
and outlook fort,
black wings with white,
sleek to lift as sun dipped
below unseen

At once, one alight, a gambol
with winged insect whose
escape uncertain, then
wings flutter,
a pass

Now partner’s turn
to swoop and pluck
the morsel for repast,
framed by trees
and clouds to hang
there for what seemed

Maybe it’s not a thin veil
for us to discover where
ancestors wait beyond.

Maybe it’s simply that
startling moment
where stop-action
frame, where
breath is caught,
where sound is
our canvass
holds truth.

Maybe, when we realize
that in each moment our
heartbeat meets terminus ,
in each and every
action, step, and
gasp, we touch our origin
and know you are there.




Author’s Note:

I walk my doggie, Benny, every morning and evening. We wander through our suburban open space that is quite civilized considering the wildlife it contains. This summer I was surrounded by swarms of dragonflies, a snake sunning itself on the walkway, a coyote crossing the street on a not so early morn, and a fox playing on the edge with passersby unimpressed.

The other day it was two magpies sitting on top of the gazebo at the playground. They were unconcerned with us, Benny and myself, but intent upon catching a flying something. Directly over my head I watched the dance not four feet above. It was as if the world stood still.

I am blessed when I still myself and open my eyes. More and more it is so easy to know that the kingdom of heaven is here and now…if I give it a chance.


May your eyes open to the glorious sky
that your heart opens as wide ready to be filled.

May your feet be held by the strength of the earth
that your journey be wise and wondrous.

May you hear the voice of the Beloved in meadow
and field, that you recognized it in one another.

May your lungs be filled with the breath of the Cosmos
that you may be one with all beings, seen and unseen,
here and beyond.



Árstíðir – Heyr himna smiður (Icelandic hymn) in train station

A Moment’s Kiss

I watch flakes so precious73959b73-0249-402d-9e6b-854ceb28f7a6
cavort with breeze so light,
if not for dark hewn bark as backdrop
instead of grey-white clouded sky,
or thin limbs peppered with vestige
leaves who tremble in air unseen,
I would hardly notice the fall
of this snow at all.

It began that way.
Yesterday, I was amused,
predictions of a blizzard coming,
a day of snow to cover all.
It seemed an impossibility.
As night wore on these simple flakes
began to leave their mark.
Most melted on earth-warmed ground,
but tiny crystals persisted.
In night they came to party large
while sleep kept my attention.

Here I sit with mounds of white
still growing large in dance.
No flake big enough to lay
for more than a moment’s kiss
on blood-warmed palms.
Yet, this little nothing
heaped upon one another,
once taken hold,
is a powerful force
to discern.

Little hurts and words
and wounds and deeds
sneak into cracks of one’s own heart,
barely noticeable at first,
until mounded steep and wide.

May the Fire of your soul
burn hot and bright.
May Light melt away your hurt.
May you know you are beloved,
always, and in return,
be love and flame to all.




Author’s Note:

Our snowstorm this week, at least in my part of the woods, never appeared to be more than small, almost imperceptible, flakes. A burst of wind here and there. I had to look hard to see the storm. If I looked into the backlit sky, there was nothing. However, against the trees or fence, or noticing the tree limbs’ small movements, I realized the cause of our snow day. When I went to sleep there was snow on the grass. When I woke up, my husband was shoveling eight inches deep as this featherlight snow continued.


I realize that can happen in one’s life. When I don’t honor myself or others, all beloveds of our Holy One, I allow small wounds and hurts to become a part of me. Before I realize it, I am frozen under a mound of little things.

I am learning to listen to the Divine voice inside of me. It isn’t ego pushing me forward, demanding I listen. No. That voice is being silenced. The voice I am learning to hear is coming through stillness, clearing space within, and un-attaching myself from ego.

It is not easy.

In meditation, spiritual reading, and, most especially, a circle of friends, I am learning to hear the voice of the Beloved. I’m learning to let the Light melt away all that isn’t me and not allow it to build up again.

My heartfelt prayer for you today:

May the Fire of your soul
burn hot and bright.
May Light melt away your hurt.
May you know we are beloved,
always, and in return,
be love and flame to all.

Munay. Namaste. Mitakuye Oyasin.


If you would like to receive my weekly reflection in your email, please click JOURNEY/lex. I would love to share my travels with you.