Jill Rothman:Surprises Can Be Counted
Surprises Can Be Counted
Borrowing from the library
worlds and bundles,
hearts and triumphs,
characters for company,
facts that pull
try this, try that.
But today,
reading a poem about home,
a polished maple leaf,
extending its stem like an arm,
falls from the pages
where it had been placed to dry
by another poetry fan.
A forgotten leaf left or purposely
so a guest could receive the unexpected.
I delight in the dilemma of
let it hitchhike back in the book
or is it my gift to sit in my kitchen
on the large maroon plate
where it will remind
how poems arrive.
5/24/19 Jill Rothman
Surprises Can Be Counted
Jill Rothman: We 4 Generations
Jill Rothman: We 4 Generations
Denise Kester: Forest Spirit
She walks through the doorways
that feel like barriers
to those –
who are not fine-tuned in the art
of seeing the multi-dimensional quality
of life teeming with offerings of assistance
and filled –
with the helpful assurance of alignment
that reinforces the connected bonds between living things –
allowing access to the sacred source
of all things –
adding to the overall strength and fortitude of the Forest Spirit’s ability to steadfastly protect the birds and other small essential beings
of the forest –
with a little help from her friends.
Denise Kester drawingonthedream.com
The fire burned hot
Everything gone
Nothing left
Nothing to hold on to
She had to let go
A bitter longing release
Yet
Out of the devastation
comes the alchemical
chain of events
that allows the
unexpected to take root
and rise, when it could not
rise before
The fire burned hot
Everything gone
Nothing left
Nothing to hold on to
She had to let go
A bitter longing release
Yet
Out of the devastation
comes the alchemical
chain of events
that allows the
unexpected to take root
and rise, when it could not
rise before
I am the sister of the moon and
kin to the silent owl in the night
that seeks the sleeping bear.
Quiet and reverent in the exquisite wonder of life,
with its cycles of death and birth.
Traveling through time, again and again,
With splendor and grace,
stumbling, again and again
I am here, recycled and transmuted for the glory
of the earth and the earthbound things,
that the Universal God Mind chooses to experience.
Ah, the beauty and depth of the dance that never ends.
So it is. And so, may it always be.
Denise Kester drawingonthedream.com