quilting, mosaicing, painting, and other adventures in making



A big moss-covered rock –
soft from spring rains; warm
from sun’s rays;
a cushioned lap of green
Come.  Rest.

a still lake so wide
you can’t see the other side.
There, eyeless tadpoles swim,
not needing sight –
yet light
moves us all,
our faces leaning toward the sun
like daffodils.

Sunbeams warm the backs of my hands
resting on my thighs
like lily pads. Still,
I need cool touch of darkness,
cloud, tree, cave;
shade from sun’s scorch,
night’s cloak of sweet relief.

My frog-leg kicks make quiet wakes
as I swim;
crosscurrents fanning out behind
like vees of geese in flight.

The empty rowboat of longing waits
on the far shore.
Where will it carry me?


Something I’ve been thinking about in these times of the harsh glare of industrialization and apocalyptic scenarios; how in these times, only Nature gives relief, connection with all living beings, so that I can relate again to my own species who has harmed this earth I love so much.