hola

as february begins to wind itself down and the next page

says march

i am thankful for so many things

and people in my life and heart

and for the vast opportunities

to continue learning;

about myself

and about community

and conversation

and also in

the art and act

of being quiet and still

...

beside me six shelves of books

that i think of as a new morning,

the way it feels and looks

like a dozen fresh and cracked eggs

swimming in a clear glass bowl

cloudy

yet somehow clear

colorless but for

a yellow streak

that reaches its fingers

out to wake me

words and thoughts;

thirst

evidence

blue pastures

psalms for praying

eyes to see otherwise

all this in the house of belonging

all this bringing me to

sweet tears

...

when we arrived 'home'

last night it was with the

the sound and look

of a pair of owl wings,

and then the

high pitched scream

of the wild mother chicken...

her sadness was so complete

and heard

it feel into my breath

and bones

all night i slept

with her

in my thoughts

and dreams

and the thought

of the rooster,

wondering how

he could ever

console her

his poor helpless arms

too short

to wrap around her...

and this morning

he still was the one

to announce

this new day

...

gracias