Step outside the garden door,
fill your eyes with morning light,
your whole body with dawn fresh breath.
Sink your bare feet into the green cushion
of dewy wet grass,
your toes tingling with surprise.
In the heart of everything before you,
You are in the presence of The Sacred.
Leaving the path
I walk into the woods.
Sit on a fallen branch
within a circle of
pine trees, twigs, sticks,
pine needles and
layer upon layer,
A decay that
trunks soar to
reach the light
There is shelter
from the wind,
the evergreen canopy,
the silence is total,
like death, yet
it calls me
Through a weave of variegated ivy leaves,
upon which light and shade played games
with my imagination, the truncated tree presented
a face of hollow cheeks and hollow eyes that
questioned my beliefs.
During long winter months, while rain and gales
rampaged, scattering and flinging in a whirl of
winter chaos, the trunk held fast to its roots,
small creatures sought refuge in the dense
and healthy growth but what were my truths.
Thoughts of Celtic Gods and Goddesses occupied my mind, until spring came shyly
through a cloud of leafy tendrils that framed her face and a crown of green was placed,
for a mythical Goddess Queen, Druantia, protector of trees, grounding my beliefs and responsibility.
that which conceals itself,
yet is not hidden.
Without light, it reveals the birth of light.
Photo credit: Teri Flynn 2014.
Can you imagine a warm, round nest,
the setting sun and warmth of feathered companions.
At first light of day to sing creation’s song
of how the world began.
No wonder you sing.
Bare morning light.
Iron smooth water.
a fish breaks the surface.
With the first hint of light, the chorus begins.
The song breaks the dawn in a symphony of love and praise.
The universe beats in time to the rhythm and hearts large and small,
feathers and all, sing.