Offerings

Sometimes words are not sufficient to capture the gifts

       of the season, nor the gratitude. These are my offerings.

 May they inspire you to notice the holiness of your moments on this cool, damp autumn day.

                                           Fruit and flowers

              Sages for the hummingbirds who have now moved on.

         Old outbuildings that now shelter our goats and chickens.

             The woods across the road whose color changes every day.

Subtle hues of the penstemon who will soon begin

                                 their long winter's nap.

      And a yard that, though past its blooming peak, is

   ripening seeds for all who will seek refuge

in the months to come.

May we each know the blessing of offering ourselves, each in our own unique way, to a world that so badly needs beauty and kindness in these troubled days.

Welcoming the Stranger

They passed through silently,

stealthily,

foraging for nourishment,
not knowing

I was watching.

On their way to Cuba, to Haiti and the Dominican Republic,

to Belize, to Honduras and Nicaragua,

and the mountains of Mexico,

days and days will they travel the skies,
feeding and sleeping 

in hopes of safety, 
against all odds, 

in hopes of arriving.

That they alight here at all is

a mutual gift, 

for them, sustenance among 
the flowers and the old apple tree,

for me,
the sheer delight of their
presence. 

I will never wing my way to
their destinations

and yet,
still,
I participate in

their journeys

in the planting,
in the loving,

in the gratitude.