Sunday, September 22, 2013

Cotton Lace, Building and Uprooting


The last of the blossoms are clinging among tiny leaves on the trees.
When I was small, I thought they were just for me. 
In my life, I have sometimes not been able to see the small beauty
Of the seasons, of the life that surrounds me.
Not notice the helping hands when they are offered. 
I am grateful that I now keenly see these blessings
In all seasons, 
That my eyes alight
                                On a drop of water, 
                                                               a pod, 
                                                                          a seed,
                                                                                       ...a new leaf
                                                                                     
                            

The sheen of a most marvelous Wyendotte rooster.


 
Tomorrow I up sticks
           Watch my sister graduate...
                                        so proud!
Then celebrate a birth soon to come, and then still, another birthday
With paints and brushes, needles and threads, scissors and silk, I will go. 
To Melbourne
To make with others for a week. 
A present to myself. 
In dye and stitch, stencil and stain.




I trade the little smoke for the big, 
                                                     In order to play for a fortnight, 
And relieved myself of all cooking and washing up!
                                                                                In exchange for dirty fingers and happy thoughts.



But how the garden grows this time of year, 
                                                                   Borscht in the making,
                                                                                                      Pickles in process
I look forward to the growth I will see when I return.


And this, beautiful bird, found on a walk.
Sadly, with its tail cut, 
                                  Unhappy baby maggie. 
I have sent it to be well taken care of, 
After feeding some worms and a night in a box. 
I shall miss him, 
Even though this encounter was short.

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