New Years Eve

What do I love about New Years Eve?  The raw potential, reading other people's facebook and blog posts and seeing the hope they have, the readiness to let go of what is no longer working for them, the shimmering light at the end of the tunnel,...the freshness of it all. 

On this New Years Eve, I am wishing you healing where it is needed, trust to recognize your dreams, strength to see those dreams come to life, joy in your heart, and a connection with the pulse of life around you that lets you see just how very much a LOVED and NECESSARY part of the universe you are.

I will admit I am going into the New Year with tears and smiles, light and dark, fear and hope...and also the growing (expanding and increasing) knowledge of how very precious this very moment is.

 

The new year is a whisper

in my ear.
So close I turn around smiling
thinking I hear her enter the room.
a breath of fresh air.
a new day.
sunshine and rain and foggy mist rising.
courage to put one foot
in front of the other,
forward going.
the taste of incoming tide
salty and blue,
cleansing.
the currents carrying sea
foam far unto the horizon.
This is as much a blessing for me
as it is for you.
A story more ancient than
light.
Shake out the dust.
Blow the motes a gentle kiss.
You are soft
warm clay.

Unfolding

All weekend I felt like fall.

I counted the moons and tides
and the lines of my own mapped body.

Today I feel like lapis
washed  soft and smooth
with veins of pyrite sparkling.

I am timeless and nameless,
in tune for this very moment
with the energy of all life.

This very well may be my fall.

In spring I was drunk on the green vine,
shatter proofed.
In the summer I was lustful and lazy
in the damp humidity of creation.

A praying mantis dead and broken on my door step,

the color of green-grey bark,
is placed on my mantle
along with the birds’ nest,
long empty,
and the remnants of lilies and a gum tree barb.

I see differently now.

There are stories unfolding.
Leaves fall like pages turning.

Today is

Today is bright sunshine and cold blue skies with grilled pimento cheese sandwiches.  There are plans to see old friends and dinner with family later in the week.  There are lines of poetry rattling around in my head that are like those elusive dreams we wake from and I cannot seem to capture their luster as I reach for my pen and paper.  So I smile and let them rattle on, knowing sooner or later they will come out in some form or fashion; a conversation shared here, a letter posted there, or in a tear gliding down my cheek while contemplating the light and dark of the world. 

The Ocean Calling

Tidal Tree

The day was renaissance blue skies and cooler temperatures, bright sunshine and gusts of winds scattered here and there.  During my walk through the cemetery earlier this week the leaves on this tree gave a familiar sound.  There was a rushing in and a letting out that I initially found pleasant but ignored until my brain ran through its memory garden in search of a definition and then found it. It was the rushing in and the letting out of the tide that I heard.

After listening for several minutes I walked on and realized that this city scape that surrounds me has become my sea shore of sorts. On my daily walks my eyes dart back and forth from the sky line to the ground.  The ground holds glittering scraps of treasure that I want to pluck up and place inside my pockets, remnants of what was, wrapped with the promise of what could be.

Fortune 1

Fortune 2

Street Glass

As I write this I also acknowledge that I have not picked up one single thing though because in the city I think of these items as trash (coveted trash) while at the sea shore I think of them as found treasure.  Today I will find a pretty jar and start adding little pieces of my city treasure to it.

I treasure rocks, glass, fortunes, and sea shells (to name a few).  What items do you call treasure and collect?