Snow falls in a
driving wind.
If the roads become
too awful, I will
celebrate Christmas
alone.
An awful experience?
No.
Beauty lies outside the windows and
in my heart.
Heat radiates from the fire.
Food fills my refrigerator.
Music bursts from CDs’.
Joy!!
Christmas always brings delight and
reflection.
You do not have to be a Christian to
feel the meaning:
Kindness
Tolerance
Empathy
Giving
Receiving
Accepting
Families
Friends
Love
Joy!!
nature
Rim Rider
I ride the rim on Rosie,
writing stories in my mind.
The neighbor’s husky howls.
Rosie listens, watches,
moves away from the canyon rim.
I write of long lost lovers,
names forgotten,
smiling brown faces,
drifting through my dreams.
I ride the rim on Rosie,
writing stories in my mind.
The bobcat climbs the canyon wall.
Rosie’s ears move,
her body tenses.
I write of childhood memories,
places loved and lost,
of family joys and sorrows,
Mom’s singing while she worked,
Dad’s napping on the blue linoleum floor.
I ride the rim on Rosie,
writing stories in my mind.
Isabella runs past, bunny hunting, barking.
Rosie wants to run, to race, is held.
I write of fragrant fields of saffron,
endless Thai seas of blue and green,
of lands I’ve loved , the Navaho Nation, the Llano Estacado.
I ride the rim on Rosie,
writing stories in my mind.
Aging
“Rage, Rage, against the dying of the light.” Dylan Thomas
Custom says, “Age gracefully.”
Are they crazy, dumb!
Who wants to look
old
wrinkled
grey?
They lie!
All of them.
Who wants a broken mind
confused
unfocused
lost?
Shoot me!
Burn my bones.
Scatter them
in the desert sands
to feed
desert willow where
rattlesnakes lie
searching for shade.
Rain
It’s raining! It’s raining!
It has not rained in more than a month.
I run out the door,
spreading my arms skyward.
I laugh out loud, dancing in the rain.
A smile smears joyfully across my face.
I run across the patio,
rain drops pelleting my face, my arms.
I laugh out loud, dancing in the rain.
My dog stands, rain running off her.
Usually, she hates the rain.
Lightning flashes, thunder echoes,
the steel roof plays staccato music.
I laugh out loud, dancing in the rain.
It’s raining! It’s raining!
Yesterday, I started an online poetry class with the Story Circle Network. The teacher is Lorraine Mejia-Green. This week we are focusing on the poetry of Mary Oliver. While I was reading her poems and the assignments associated with them, it began to rain. I became so excited I forgot all about my assignments and enjoyed the rain. I even posted my excitement on Facebook and called my daughter. She laughed and said, “You are a dork!”
July 27 – Summer
July 27 – Summer.This was published yesterday by the Story Circle Network on One Woman’s Day.
Writing on the Rim
The canyon edge looms out my bedroom windows,
pale adobe, stark.
Fall to death or serious injury!
I will not fall; I love living on the edge.
Rain brings a one hundred foot deluge,
a roar of water, cascading, screaming.
Someone said my house is pink; it is not pink!
It is the color of the canyon, the worldwide color,
Moroccan, pueblo, Saudi, Mali, Navaho, Timbuktu,
Desert, alive and lovely.
Three bucks watch me through my bedroom windows.
They see me move; they stare.
Isabella stands rigid, watching.
I kneel to her level; follow her eyes.
The bobcat casually climbs the canyon wall, impervious.
He marks the cedar tree, walks a deer path, disappears.
He is a secret, rarely seen.
The huge hoot owl’s voice echoes down the canyon,
drifting through my dreams.
A young road runner calls, scratchy,
running across the patio–on the edge.
In the spring the mocking bird sings all night,
“This is my territory.”
I sing all year, full of joy.
I live in beauty on the rim.
I decided to reblog this because it is the season for giving thanks, and I am eternally grateful for the privilege of living in such a beautiful place. Yesterday, my family and I took a hike here, saw deer, lovely colorful rocks, bunnies, and native plants the names of which I do not know. I live in beauty on the rim of wonder!! I feel blessed!!
writingontherim 