Dogwood Blossoms

They clung to the branches
Like hope
Reflecting light from the cosmos
On a darkened path
Even on a cloudy night
Their petal white fingers spread
From the golden center
In a gesture of openness
And served as guides
Along the path towards shelter

High-Heeled Shoes

It was the high-heeled shoes
That struck me
As we talked
I couldn’t help looking down at the red
That raised her whole body inches above mine
To where my neck craned to see
The once beautiful
But overly made up face
There was pain
It could be seen
Just below the mask
Of rouge, powder, and plastic
That pulled back skin thinly
And led to a barely noticeable smile
She was young once
Then walked through the middle ground
Like me
Now she has taken
That step beyond
But tries to hold on to an idea
By manipulating and painting herself
Like a doll
Whose countenance cannot show emotion
We all put up walls to confuse or protect
We all think that we can fool
Even ourselves
With this game of charades
As I took her in
I realized that
Adopting red shoes
And feeding the mask
Can only serve
To leave a question with those
Who stop and try
To see beyond
The shadow self
Into the depths
My question
What caused you this much pain ?

Let It Go

Let everything be
For a little while
Quit shaping,
Pruning
and organizing
The plants
So that they grow
Controlled
In the dirt
Never to wander up the fence
With wild arms
This idea of perfection
For which you strive
Is driving everyone
Crazy
Including you
Let everything be
Your presentation
Does not have to be
Perfect
For you to experience the
Hand of Love
Gently rocking your Chair
God loves,
Even your crazy morning hair
And Torn Pajamas
Let everything be
The pressure is only building
Because you won’t let go
Of the idea of perfect

Heart Wisdom

Speak your wisdom,
Oh, heart
With your
Steady
Rhythmic
Beat
Beat
Beating…
Let your
Ebb and flow
Drowned out
The loose cannon
Thoughts
Of the mind
Which run wild tonight
Spinning and reeling
In too many directions to count
Move loudly within
Slowing
Steadying
Being
Beat
Beat
Beating
Until the mind
Is quiet

Fog

In the fog at dusk
I went walking
Through gray mist
Gathered round like hen feathers
Giving a sense of peace
Bringing my childhood to memory

I used to love coming down to the beach
On fogy days
I had a favorite rock
Where
I would stand
Unseen
Unheard
Singing to the sea
Songs that welled up inside of me
Nonsense and longing
Erased for a moment
All of the days
Thoughts that plagued me
I was left
With the feeling of being utterly alone
Yet fully attended by the solitude
In which the holy is present

In the gray
I could empty myself of shame and fear
And immerse myself in imagination
I sang of love and brokenness
Of hope and longing
Memories and desires
Everything I poured out was soaked up by
Surrounding gray
My secrets were safe
They would retreat back into the sea
As the sun burned through the fog

As an adult I felt nervous about being alone in the fog
I did not want to leave the comfort of the sun
For a moment of isolation and spiritual solitude
As I entered
I felt within me
A familiar song

One
Not heard for quite some time
I did not sing it
As loud as I once might have
But it came to me
As a sweet secret
Whispered

Here,I
sacred found
In this space of in between
Hanging round
Like a shroud
Subtle,
Mine to treasure

Lady Bugs

It was a mourner’s beach
I walked this evening
Hundreds of
Red and black bodies
Lay tumbled and forgotten in the surf
Why did they come?
Were they bewitched by the oceans call?
As I looked down saddened
I saw movement
Not all were lost
And I began to gather up little round bodies
In my hands
I started with just a few
They kept wriggling their way
Between my closed fingers
Falling back onto the sand once more
So I went back to my car
Dog in toe and got my coffee mug
Down on my hands and knees now,
I began filling my mug
With one cupped hand over the top
In an hour and a half I collected
Well over a hundred
Lady bugs
Then stopped
When the light had faded
With a full cup I headed back to my car
I drove one hand over the top of the mug,
And the other on the steering wheel
Back to my garden
I set the cup
In the middle
Then watched as they poured out of the top
Red, black, and beautiful
Clambering out into the green
I wished that I could have saved more
Of those precious aphid eaters
It was a mourner’s beach
I walked tonight,
But this is
A thanksgiving garden
Where
Red and black
Fade into
Green

Morning Guffaw

The Blue Jay and the Crow have been at it all morning
Each thinks that he knows
The talk of the town better than the other
So each stand perched
One on the fence
One on the branches of the pine
Yelling at each other
Interrupting and calling out
Their squabble is causing quite a stir in the neighborhood
My Dog is trying to play referee
He is barking at the bottom of the fence
He runs back and forth
Telling them “what for”
Occasionally the birds will
Take notice and pause in their guffaw
They will look down
Stopping their chatter
And he will stop barking
And the sound of little birds singing will be audible once more
Then under his breath the crow will mutter his crow words
And the ruckus will begin again
Why can’t we all just get along?

A Post by Nyrie

Today at school we played kick ball. It was so much fun! I got to be a team captain for the first time this year and I picked a really good team! My teammates were very encouraging and we were very good at working together. I even made two home runs in a row!!! I am very proud. Oh, by the way, my team won! I also turned in an old reading question sheet and that is always good, and I got a lot done on the top that I am making in woodworking class. What a fun day!
By Nyrie Mietzke

Simple Things

Clean Laundry
New plants breaking through garden soil
A tall glass of ice water
Fifteen minutes of uninterrupted reading
Laying in patch of sunshine on my bedroom floor
My children laughing together
A bowl of ice cream
A phone call from a good friend
A found dog
The smell of jasmine flowers
Being home
Being home
Being home

Summer Days Are Coming!

They stood in the surf
Silhouetted by the setting sun
Arms outstretched in defiance
As if they could stop the roaring of the waves
By sheer will power
The waves came one after another soaking them
In their school jeans
Laughing they fell in the water time and again
Only to end standing
Taunting the waves
To do their best

Sometimes, I Would Rather Be a Chicken

We have a chicken in the side yard of our duplex
She has one little chick that follows her around
Learning and stealing bugs from mama's mouth
As she scratches in the dirt the chick watches and follows suit
It struck me
How simply some things are made
To scratch, peck, drink, and lay
Then to get up and do it again
Without the complication of connection
Sometimes I long for the quiet
I wish that I did not wake
With so many thoughts to think
Responsibilities to fulfill
Working, shopping, driving, loving,
It is the loving that makes it all worth doing
But some days I think I would rather be a chicken

Just Like Magic

It lay across the path
In patterned silence
Still as a stick
Blown down from the tree
In last week’s storm
It lay
Patches of brown and tan
Blending
Into the woodchips
Where little feet walk
Every day
Four sets of feet ran right over the top of it
Brushing it
Perhaps
Without a glance
But I looked down at the fifth pair
As they went running by and started at the sight of him
Three feet long
Lounging in the sun
He saw me jump
And we watched as his stick straight body
Bent into curves and slithered off the path
Into the grass and bushes
He slithered in a slow way
Disappearing
Inch by inch
Just like magic

The Journey

It is just a journey,
From beginning to end
From start to finish
The seeds take
From soil to plate
Though the journey is short
It is done with subtle splendor
With a gentle warming and swelling
Then rising towards the light
Unfolding delicate leaves
Growing visibly every day
Bosoms,
Orange, yellow and white
Dance with the bees
And then
Voila'
The fruit begins to grow and ripen
My seasoned hands touch
And pick
Wash and chop
Cook and saute
Dinner

Fair Food

Fair food
Is not as good
As I remembered
It tastes like
Last week’s
Fast food leftovers
Even cotton candy as it melts
Has lost a bit of magic
Indigestion sets in easier
Than it used to
Next time I will bring
An apple

Condition or Conditioning?

I am wanting,
Often longing
For something more
Than what I have
Is this just
“The human condition”,
Or first world conditioning?

I said to my husband last night
Given any circumstance
No matter how delightful
I could find a way
To be conflicted about it

My goal since we moved this year
Has been to live in a place of gratitude
It is often the most difficult task
I have ever given myself

I have to wonder why…
When I am surrounded by love
I have food on my table,
A roof over my head,
I have a good job
Beautiful healthy children
A good marriage
And deep friendships

Why do I always want more?
What more is there to want anyway?
Where does this longing come from?

Longing

I am wanting,
Often longing
For something more
Than what I have
Is this just
“The human condition”,
Or first world conditioning?

I said to my husband last night
Given any circumstance
No matter how delightful
I could find a way
To be conflicted about it

My goal since we moved this year
Has been to live in a place of gratitude
It is often the most difficult task
I have ever given myself
I have to wonder why…
When I am surrounded by love
I have food on my table,
A roof over my head,
I have a good job
Beautifully and healthy children
Deep friendships
Why do I always want more?
What more is there to want anyway?
Where does this longing come from?

Chocolate and Poetry

For my birthday
You gave me a bar of chocolate
And a book of poetry
I partake of these almost every day
One remedy for the tongue
And the other for the heart
The chocolate is almost gone
I don’t think I have ever let a bar last this long
But waking to it made me feel
Like I was also waking
To a bit of our sweet friendship
And that somehow I carried a piece of you into my day
The poetry has nourished me and caused me
On many a day to stop and take notice
Of the little things

How long it takes a snail
To make it's way across the porch
Or new flower buds
That came in the night
Or the licks and paws
That greet me in the morning
Along with the padding of growing child feet
These things I share with you
Dear friend
Across a distance
With gratefulness