The Taste of Lammas — a first harvest celebration

feral blackberry brambles Westfir, Oregon

For Earthweal’s open link weekend — Happy Lammas

The Taste of Lammas

I hold a peach in my hand
the sweet scent lifts my spirits
with all the promise of summer
blackberries growing wild
sparkle like obsidian jewels
in the dry summer sun
plum butter rich and thick
on a freshly-baked scone
I close my eyes,
the explosion of sensations
color my spirit
as I taste the gifts of Gaia
catching a stray crumb
with my tongue
I sigh with gratitude
and contentment
thank you for the flavors
thank you, thank you, thank you

Til next time ~Stay Wild Moonchild ~JP

Silence

Silence

The discordant drone of cicadas

like the raspy buzz of high power lines

cars and trucks in monotonous whine

hustle and bustle of coming and going

my sense assaulted by tuneless song

jarring cacophany endless throng

I close my eyes to inner guidance

standing on the ragged edge

praying for a single moment

of silence

We arrived in Cincinnati, Ohio a few weeks ago. Oh lucky me, just in time for the cicada apocalypse. The 17-year cicadas emerged, there were billions of them, everywhere. Yes, at least one got caught in my hair …. eeeeeeekkkkk! (why yes, I do scream and dance around like a little girl). What bothered me the most was the constant noise of the beasties. I also recently read “The Ragged Edge of Silence” by John Francis, so I was more and more shocked at how much “noise” occupies my world and how I yearn for a single silent moment.

Til next time ~Stay Wild Moonchild (quiet but wild)

The Gift of Tiny Things a Crimson Creative Challenge

For Crimson’s Creative Challenge # 133

The Gift of Tiny Things

It is, I think, the tiny things
that often give soul it’s wings
the humming bird in darting flight
fills the heart with pure delight
dandelion offered from a tiny hand
I’ve never seen a gift so grand
a gentle touch, a quiet smile
a laugh, a joke, and all the while
wondering what tomorrow brings
life is lived in the tiny things

Til next time ~Stay Wild Moonchild ~JP

Crimson’s Creative Challenge 132 — The Power of Water

For Crimson’s Creative Challenge 132

The Power of Water

By the power of water, pure and clean
the world is cleansed of negativity
a hillock adrift in the torrent stream
all that remains of her broken dreams
the Great Mother’s voice whispers
“come child, let me dry your eyes
you aren’t sad because it rains my dear
it rains because you cry”

Til next time ~Stay Wild Moonchild ~JP

Through the Lady’s Eyes – a Crimson Creative Challenge

our photo prompt from Crispina Kemp

For Crimson’s Creative Challenge

From Crater Lake Oregon

Through the Lady’s Eyes

Everywhere I go I seem
to find
the Lady’s spirit watching me
Look now, can you not see
the Lady’s face within the tree
or the
feminine forms etched in stone
nature’s hidden ghosts
abiding grace of form
now
look through her eyes
and you just might see
all this world was meant to be

Til next time ~Stay Wild Moonchild ~JP

dVerse Haibun — Perfect Moments

Frank is our host at dVerse for haibuns this week. We are asked to focus on the present moment for our haibun. Life is made up of moments, precious, terrifying, beautiful moments. Once in awhile, it all comes together and for just that moment, life is perfect.

Perfect Moments

Standing on the overlook, gazing at the fairytale landscape below. Orange and yellow stones painted with the colors of the setting sun, and the azure sky. You wrap an arm around my waist, and the moment is perfect.

I watch as the shadow of a butterfly dances across the floor, refracted through the sun and glass. Blending with hospital floors and furniture, forming abstract shapes. A cloud passes over the sun. I lose the shadow dance. The doctor walks in. You are alive. My heart overflows with gratitude, and the moment is perfect.

Spring warms the flowers
the wind filled with promise and
blessings not yet known

Til next time ~Find your perfect moment ~JP

Sunday Stills — Blessed be the wild things

For Sunday Stills – celebrating kids and pets

“The time has come,” I thought today
“to ponder many things
like kids and pets and photographs
and why the wild bird sings”

I find myself in a bewilderment. Kids and pets … hmmm, I have no pets, and I generally don’t post pictures of kids (even my own). So that leaves me with those beautiful souls with whom we share this little blue world. I love the feeling of awe when I encounter animals in their natural habitat. I say a little prayer of thanks and treasure the places where the wild things are.

Above, a juvenile big horn sheep in Zion National Park, Utah. They sometimes come down from the higher elevations to feed and pose for tourists.

Here American Buffalo at Custer State Park in South Dakota. You don’t realize how truly huge they are until you experience them up close.

One harried momma duck with a passel of ducklings in Christ Church, NZ. We watched them cross the path heading for the pond, and laughed and laughed and laughed at Momma scolding and herding the brood. Yes, the comedy of motherhood is universal.

My precious little puff balls – Great Horned Owlets in our big pine in South Dakota. I think these count as both pets and kids. We watched them all summer grow from tiny bits of fluff to the day they stretched their wings and set out on their own. They were no longer cute little babies but full grown, gasp inspiring, raptors.

The Three Amigos in the Marlborough District of NZ. In a field full of spring lambs, these little guys found themselves a hill to defend. 🙂

Til next time ~Meet me where the wild things are ~JP

Dreams of Late — a quadrille


Image from Pixabay

De (aka WhimsyGizmo) is hosting Quadrilles at dVerse Poets Pub and has asked for a poem about “bother” what bothers us, what do we find bothersome? What gets us hot and bothered? Hmmm … as I poke my muse repeatedly until she finally gets tired of being bothered and manages to convey some sort of inspiration.

Dreams of Late — a quadrille

At night of late
dark dreams have come
frightening and bothersome
dark shapes I cannot see
swoop, harass and bother me
moonless skies
throughout the night
colors fading from my sight
searching for the moon’s bright light
I wake to find it’s all illusion

word count 44

Til next time ~Stay Wild Moonchild ~JP