Saturday, June 19, 2010


Once upon a time ago, I was looking for you.

Hungry, I ran here and there like a beggar, yearning for someone or something to fill my empty bowl.

The bowl is gone now. How could something so small contain you?

Now you fill me, spilling out, flooding my world.

Like the simple chair in the shade of the tree. I know every curve and bend and the spiky palm fronds too.

Where you end and I begin, I can not say.

It used to be, I thought I was apart from you.

Now, we are the same.

Thursday, June 10, 2010


The moon is calling out to me again.

Sitting under her soft, hazy, glow, she whispers my name.

I hear her gentle voice inside, as the sound of my heart, beating rhythmically, like a drum.

Thoughts fall away, while I listen and the beat grows stronger still.

I know what she wants, this crazy moon-beat of mine; she wants me to gaze on her, knowing I am seeing myself.

In her, I see my own light, tonight soft and mellow, at other times, radiant and magical.

What a crazy, mixed up world this is, that the moon speaks to me so.

And I, fool that I am, take the time to listen.

Sunday, June 6, 2010


The blue-gray heron is here again. Flying in with her wobbly-legged offspring, she watches over her child, making sure the two sit together in stillness at the top of the flaming poinciana tree. They are waiting for the one splashing and rhythmically working her way up and down the length of the pool, to leave. Then they will hop down and dip their beaks in the water.

Watching, I know they feel my legs kicking and splashing. They know the steady flow of breath in and out and the way the water lifts and softens the intense heat of the day. I also know the exact moment they will fly down and begin dipping, even with my back turned as I leave to go, I know.

I know because we are the same. Entering inside each small, bony frame I feel little hearts beating. I am looking out through sharp eyes and am silently waiting to glide down and take my first sip.

We are the same you and I.