As I write this little update, the sky above our garden is not dazzzling blue as usual, but hazy with no sign of rain. Recent temperatures have reached 10 to 15 degrees higher than usual for this time of year.

And the haze, which is a kind of shade at least, is continued proof of the dangerous path we earthlings are heading down. Fires in California, Southern Oregon, Washington state, and Canada are sending their smoky and ominous warning across the US., and the world. Is it a smoke signal or a prayerful plea which the Earth is sending out…and will we heed it in time?

Each morning I resume my prayers; gratitude for Creation and the sustenance of Life; for healing of loved ones and friends; and weeping daily now, for the Life of our beautiful Earth and all she contains.

A few weeks ago, our outside thermometer reached 119 degrees. Yes, we were comfortably housed in our airconditioning. But the fuchsia on our deck literally fried. And what is worse, the birds were silent. Nowhere to be seen.

My Darlings, I am not a scientist. I am not a politician. I am merely a poetic child whose heart pours out to Heaven with thanksgiving and delight. And today a simple plea:

Look around you.

Observe the changes in your own gardens, your own trees and plants and sky.

Open your hearts to rejoice in cleansing air, uplifting breezes, refreshing rain.

And to the Earth herself–our Mother, our home, our responsibility.

And please let us all seek a simpler path which includes thinking about how our choices impact our Mother.

Wishing you sweetness and peace as we strive together in this vital effort to choose Life!

crows know the hour of prayer

I hear them gather each morning

just above my open window

I wrap myself in fringes

they stand ready in burnished black

and together we open our throats

I seek the heights of Spirit

then fold my tent of Meeting

and move into my day

they soar into the heavens

flit between treetop and roof

observant and open to All that is

crows know the hour of prayer

and when we meet again at twilight

maybe they will teach me to fly

at the edge of the world

the sea abandons all she is

after flinging herself upward

after singing full-throated and pure

like a sigh she subsides

back into herself into fullness

What’s The Difference

*from One With Willows copyright 2020 by Joan Myles*

Okay, I forgot.

I’m sixty years old,

and I forgot Helen Keller was deaf.

You laughed.

I laughed.

And for a moment, I was confused.

But really,

what’s the difference?

It doesn’t change anything,

doesn’t insult anyone,

or disrupt world economics.

it’s actually a compliment.

I didn’t forget Keller’s brilliance,

the way she advocated for blind folks around the world,

her eloquent use of words.

I didn’t forget Keller knew German,

French and Greek; appreciated

the ocean, Socialism and Beethoven.

Deafness and blindness

were sudden cliffs

Keller navigated throughout her life,

the shocking scenery

and heart–stopping challenges

most people find too distracting

to go on living.

That’s the difference—

Helen Keller lived.

Learning another language is interesting on so many levels as you probably know.

One thing that keeps coming up for me is what happens when the correct word in the correct language does not come readily to mind. I don’t go blank as one might expect. I end up reverting to the last language I studied–kind of a default mode I suppose.

So when I was studying French in College, I naturally defaulted to English. That makes sense.

And in Grad school when I was learning Hebrew, my default became French. That was a bit surprising.

And would you believe it–now as I wade into the shallows of Spanish vocabulary and make chart upon chart of Spanish verb conjugations, Hebrew is popping up all over the place.

Oy!

*The perfect expression for puzzlement and frustration in any land*

Keep learning, my Darlings!

Well, to let you all knowI’m learning Spanish
and as I hablo

I learn about me
and the mi that means my
Yes, I’m loving the learning
and I’m less and less shy

and the red box is big
and is under the table
I’ll be rhyming in Spanish
just as soon as I’m able

summer flowson soap bubble currents

spins me like the lace
tiny birds weave into song
and Wonder
reigns

a tiny birdin the dark in the dark
sings the sun to shine

and so aI gather
a spark a spark
and make the brightness mine