Tag: Nature

Volunteer Flower

~ Deb ~ 1 Comment 
A volunteer of green clings to
the edge of the sidewalk
at an out-of-the-way place
the weedeater may miss
long enough to sink roots
deep enough to support
the flower. 

The seed was planted in
mystery without intention
or design but still somehow
managed to land in a 
spot conducive to growth,
just enough soil and water
for life. 

And now the decision,
to let it remain and do
as it will, to attempt a
transplant into an 
established bed, to dig
a whole new bed around it,
or kill it. 

The latter is inconsistent
with my soul, the new bed
is a commitment not yet
called for, the transplant
is risky and could cause 
its death, and so, for now
it remains. 

As is, growing in the squeeze
of pavement, bringing 
beauty to a barren place,
offering itself just as it is,
just where it is, to help
joy flower in a heart 
craving joy.

Flowers fade, but some
come around same time
next year, returning
again and again to a
spot that welcomes it,
volunteering again and again
to blossom anew.

Myrtle Dance

~ Deb ~ Leave a comment 
The night before the full
moon, I make plans. A 
Beltane fire will be lit, wine,
the remembrance of
the light within and
a solemn bow to all that 
grows and causes
growth.

I will journal and cut
cords, chant harm ye
none under my breath,
simmer cinnamon and
cloves, rosemary and orange
in a cast iron pot to
invoke health, prosperity,
and all goodness.

I will sing to the moon, 
inviting the crepe myrtles I 
prune and water 
during the day to 
recognize me in this 
new light. I will get
tipsy on the wine, perhaps
even dance round the 
myrtles believing they
dance with me.

I will charge my crystals
and myself under the light 
of the grandmother.
The dewy night will feel
strange on my skin until
I remember I belong to it.

My wife looks up from her
iPad just long enough
to remind me that our
godson’s birthday dinner is
tomorrow night.  

The wine will save.
The moon will understand. 

The myrtles may still dance though.

Safe Space

~ Deb ~ Leave a comment

When I feed the birds, I talk
to set them at ease.
I know they’re somewhere in
the trees, though unseen,
watching me walk to the
shed, pull out the bag
of black oil sunflower seeds,
lug It to the mimosa tree
with the multiple trunks
and multiple feeders.

Helloo, birdies!  I know you’re
watching me.  I’m filling up
your pantries.  Eat well and
take care of your babies.

I wonder if they’ll ever be
used to me. Waiting for
dinner a little closer, giving
me a wink, landing on my
shoulder if I stand still
enough. Or are they
smarter than us? Do
they innately know that
predators often offer
treats?

Helloo, birdies! Watch from
wherever feels safe. I’ll still fill
the pantries.  Eat well, 
take care of babies, and
listen to your instincts.

The safest spaces never push. 

I Love

~ Deb ~ 2 Comments 
I’m never worried that the
squirrels will eat my
birdseed. 
Maybe it’s squirrel seed. 
Why would I use the gas and 
spend the money to
haul home feed for
one species while wishing to 
shoo away another? 

I love nature, not just birds. 

I’ve never worried that the
ants will find the 
hummingbird cocktail.
It’s sugar — what’s not to love?
Why would I fill the glass bulb and
screw on the base and
hang it upside down for
the bumblebirds and not let
the workers have a donut? 

I love life, not just the pretty kind. 

I’ve never worried that other
people will benefit from the 
rights I fight for. 
We’re all in this time together. 
Why would I carry a sign and
march down the street chanting
words of resistance and equality
and not want every body to
experience justice? 

I love freedom, not just mine.