Spring Snow

This spring snowfall does not bother me…
No not at all.
I am not inconvenienced,
Unlike the birds,
Migrant guests who arrived on time
Only to find their rooms not ready.
And it appears that they will make do,
And survive within their world of deeper wisdom.
Such trusting souls.

Spring is such a relative season
A time of arrivals and departures,
The heat of the sun struggles with the cold
Of darker days,
The story of creation ongoing,
As the earth wobbles its winding way
Leaving us with weather filled with a high degree
Of in-betweenness.

Spring looks both backward and forward
I see that now.
So on this morning
And at this moment
I will not struggle in the in-between,
Rather I will choose to be mindful of its wonder
This heat and cold
These flakes and feathers
and be grateful for such gifts.

The Chipmunk Way

There are chipmunks meditating
Bunkered deep in stonewalls…
Waiting most breathlessly.
Are they dreaming of cheek pouches
Swollen with seeds?
Do they wander mindfully back to sun-streaked
Mornings and warm-velvet days filled
With the wood-chucking of their songs
As they earnestly shared
Their secrets with the universes?
They know that I was listening then,
Tapping my toes…
Can they help me now?
Can they tell me
What I need to know?

There is a Tarry

As for me
And as for now
I am sitting still.
And drawn between being still-filled
And being outwardly engaged
I am mindful
Of my human being-ness;
A vessel in need of fulfillment
And a want for times of self-realization.
There is a flow
And there is a tarry in these times
Glassy still
That rides between such tides
Slack and Serene.
And as for now
This is what I know.