Sleeping in the Forest
— Mary Oliver
I thought the earth
remembered me, she
took me back so tenderly, arranging
her dark skirts, her pockets
full of lichens and seeds. I slept
as never before, a stone
on the riverbed, nothing
between me and the white
The Fairy Shepherd
by Cicely Fox Smith
When stars come gleaming one by one,
And fold and farm are still,
O I go out to keep the sheep
All night upon the hill.
My master deems me chill and cold
When he lies warm in bed,
But I run leaping with my flock,
And l
THE UNINVITED FRIEND
I have an uninvited friend.
She came to my door last night, again, and I almost pretended to be out.
But it was too late, she saw me peering through the blinds and she can sense my energy anyway.
I let my friend in and she w
Art: Brooklyn Swenson
“Something told the wild geese
It was time to go.
Though the fields lay golden
Something whispered,—‘Snow.’
Leaves were green and stirring,
Berries, luster-glossed,
But beneath warm feathers
Something cautioned,—‘Frost.’
All the
"The Pilgrimage" , (2019)
Mixed Media by Lisbeth Cheever-Gessaman
"I have heard from so many recently who are deeply and properly bewildered. They are concerned about the state of affairs in our world right now. It is true, one has to have strong co
Autumn
by Adelaide Crapsey
Art by Alla Tsank
Fugitive, wistful,
Pausing at edge of her going,
Autumn the maiden turns,
Leans to the earth with ineffable
Gesture. Ah, more than
Spring's skies her skies shine
Tender, and frailer
Bloom than plum-bloom or alm
The Wind And The Leaves
by George Cooper
Art by Maja Lindberg
"Come, little leaves," said the wind one day.
"Come o'er the meadows with me, and play'
Put on your dress of red and gold,—
Summer is gone, and the days grow cold."
Soon as the leaves h
The Tree
by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
Art by William Stephen Coleman
The Tree's early leaf-buds were bursting their brown;
"Shall I take them away?" said the Frost, sweeping down.
"No, leave them alone
Till the blossoms have grown,"
Prayed the Tree, while
I am my mother's savage daughter
The one who runs barefoot
She looks for her omens
In the colors of stones
In the faces of cats
In the dancing of fire
In the curve of old bones
She sings heathеn songs
By the light of the moon
And dreams she can reac
~ For World Bee Day ~
“Hush now.
The wounds run deep,
but the bees
are full of knowing.
They know the hive
of your heart,
each crooked curled chamber
each hopefully hidden curve,
each darkened holding cell.
They have come
with wings
and song
A Song of the Spirit
This is the one I said I would not going to even try to quantify - I felt strongly that either you would either get it, or not (although being my tribe, I do feel more of you fall more towards the former rather the latter). It’s
The Cure For It All
Go gently today, don’t hurry
or think about the next thing. Walk
with the quiet trees, can you believe
how brave they are—how kind? Model your life
after theirs. Blow kisses
at yourself in the mirror
especially when
you think you
