In the early morning, of this fairyland I live in, the air is brimming with sound. The roosters remind me I live in rural America but the other bird songs are still so newborn to me that it persists to feel as my first morning here, like the stuff of dreams. In a reverie it feels like I’m enclosed by tropical forest and its reverberations. The bright blue wing of.. Read More
Rumi once wrote, “The way the night knows itself with the moon, be that with me.” Or, alternately translated, “Union is a raging river running toward the sea. Tonight the moon kisses the stars. O beloved, be like that to me.” I am afraid of many things. I fear not knowing union like Rumi wrote, or of not protecting it, or fighting for it with my life. The last seven.. Read More
The morning is pregnant with the rain to come today, and also filled with a feathery lightness that whispers to me the way the sun will be peaking through like a faithful friend. The sky is blue grey filling with a little warmth on the horizon as I walk through the hour of morning twilight. The sun has already crested on the other side of the hills and I keep.. Read More