If silence is golden
what is conversation?
In a sacred space,
framed by trustworthy trees,
stories shared, sighs received
flow like the river, muddied and deep,
carrying us into futures
rife with questions
ripe with gratitude.
If the trees are (l)eavesdropping,
let me say this:
Thank you.

Cold wind’s nimble fingers strum
Golden stalks in setting sun
It’s a song I know by heart
This is home

What does it cost to pay attention?
Spend fifteen minutes or fifteen years…
You’ll sacrifice distance for depth,
pace for beauty,
achievement (perhaps) for being fully alive.
And it will be worth it,
a purchase you won’t regret,
as the world transforms under your gaze,
revealing the resilience for which you cried,
the hope for which you hungered.

I had begun to think this couldn’t be redeemed.

God brought me to my senses among the trees.

I know love ought to be enough.

What more is there, really?

But in the face of the struggle

love seems insufficient,

not enough to bring

but far too much to carry.

How can it feel so small

and so weighty

all at once?

So, I’m asking you, can I just bring the E?

the Embrace? the Encouragement?

the Empathy? the Emptiness?

Can I count on you for the rest?

the LOV?

and maybe even some more of that E?

Is this what it means to be part of the body?

Bringing what I can, being what I am,

trusting the rest is there in you?

I know the answer.

Of course I do.

And on the good days I believe it.

With each breath, expanding gratitude.

Praise the creating one, the leading one, the loving one.

Fallen leaves cushion the way, singing their freedom song.

Surrender.

Release.

Fear not.

The autumn soul is not (as it may seem) dry and disconnected

But bravely yielding to transforming grace.

Movement is grace

A body in motion reminds

All is not loss

Everything turning

Changing

Becoming

We, too, propelled by hope