once a snowflake fell…

Once a snowflake fell

Upon a mountaintop

And melted into

..an ever flowing stream

Even then,

It did not stop

As the gentle river became

A dream, floating on…

And on, or so it seemed…

Once a snowflake drifted, now

A drop of water,

In its travels did carry long

Unto the ocean deep

It wound its way

It found its way

In daylight hours

And, in the ones

..of deepest sleep

Around the world

Again and overmore

…how long..and long

no one knows, for sure

No calendar

Nor clock to keep

As gracefully, time did

Pass..

without a warning,

Or fanfare or anything much

The soulful drop,

was gathered and lifted

From where it had been

As if by a purposeful hand

Taken so carefully

From the waves of the sea

..to the dryness of the land

By way of the rolling thunder

Trumpeting, the dawn’s question..

Sounding the awakening

That knows no earthly bounds

And so, given

By sun and bluest sky

This lovely…once a snowflake,

Once a stream

Once a river

Once a dream

Once an ocean

Once a rain

Once a touch of everything….

Now a gentle dewdrop,

..at rest upon my skin…

….for but a moment in forever…

****

ellie894 April 24, 2020

the song…

As the sun gives way to the horizon

At the first hint of night

Softly I sing your name

And all at once,

Beyond my imagining

The whole sky lights up

…from everywhere, deep within

It knows the song in my heart..

…. the one that plays for you

****

ellie894 March 23, 2020

Thank you, Sadje for the inspiring weekly photo prompt! You always choose a stunning image!

Please be safe everyone, and get Plenty of Sleep!

Suzanne ❤️

smiling…

The sun is going down

The woods are oh so quiet

The pond lays like a mirror

The trees, all darkened silhouettes

No wind stirs and no bird sings

Only the coyotes begin to call..

…from somewhere far off

And high overhead

A sliver of moon…is smiling…

****

ellie894 February 29, 2020

Sitting at the lake at sunset. Listening to “I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing” by Aerosmith

a lullaby for the cosmos…

I have been puttering at painting lately
In the evenings
Swirling things
Playful dreams
Just because.
I think I should try my hand, my brush,
At an elephant and a lotus blossom 
A morning is a funny thing,
Sort of where it begins
And how.
Why does this thought take hold
And not another.
I send a wish through sleepy eyes
Crawl out from the covers,
Sometimes begrudgingly
Usually with a note of what will come next
And, it does come next.
Those morning moments unfold
One beyond another..


Coffee, but not too much
A candle flame warms the darkness, but not too much
A zebra pen pauses over an empty savannah, but not for too long.
Lemonade and lotus blossoms..
I can’t quite stop thinking of them
Lotus blossoms and lemonade
They’re just there is all
In my wanderings, and they sound so lyrical together
Tart yellow citrus and a hearty flower
…the blossoming of enlightenment 
Mostly, I like the song they sing together 
But, I shall keep them close this day to see if they have another gift.
Everything becomes a piece of music to me
I’m not certain why
Nevertheless, I am grateful 
For the rock and the jazz, the country and the classical 
I love it all…



Today is Thorsday 
The day of Thor
Which sets me to conjuring a realm
Full of mythos and legend 
I cross the rainbow bridge
And climb into the world tree
I love that image
Of a world tree
With roots and branches reaching in every direction
So much farther than I could ever see
Home to an infinitude of life
Nearly unfathomable to me
Yet, I try to fathom it.
A gentle smile comes over me
As I imagine so many animals
From tiny to enormous 
Gentle giants and busy scurriers 
I suspect humans are the scurriers.
Have you ever watched an elephant
Listening to Beethoven
Played on a piano 
In wide open spaces..


How I would dearly love to spend my days in such a way as that
Making beautiful music for elephants 
How worthy…of time..
Imagine..zillions of elephants 
Living in the world tree
Swaying peacefully 
To the sounds of Moonlight Sonata 
The whole tree rocking with them
And, all the little ones 
Drifting to sleep
Under a midnight sun 
And a noontime moon
In the protective embrace 
Of the mighty world tree
…a lingering lullaby
For the whole cosmos…

suzanne
❤️
****
ellie894 January 30, 2020

on the night swing…

On the night swing

Silence reigns peacefully…

One, two, three…

I begin to count the stars,

Soon, I realize there aren’t nearly enough.

Where did they get away to,

Did they become wishes,

And did they come true…

With an upward gaze and an open heart,

I fly from here to soar the heavens

And tiptoe there among them.

They sparkle with a surety and a grace

That sends me back through time

Into a shining darkness of uncountable nights.

Ones that came before so many counterfeit lights of man.

There was an age

When stars outnumbered the neon glow.

I miss it much…

Do those that are left in the heavens look to us now,

In mystery, as we do them.

Are they intrigued by our sparklers of one kind and another.

Do they surmise that some of their very own

Have fallen into this dusty corner of space…

…to enchant us mere women and men…

…maybe.

Is that how a wish is born,

Does a star choose to fall,

Because it heard the distant whisper of a thought…

It hopes,

And draws close,

Close enough to listen…

To the stories of you and me.

…maybe.

But, I ask,

Do they still enchant us,

Or have we replaced them

With something that will never be real.

Desire beckons to me

To find a somewhere

Where once again, the lights of us are few to none,

And the stars are free

To reign in silence

From their own celestial home

Where they belong….

****

ellie894 September 8, 2019

all at once I know…

I cannot yet say that there’s a welcome chill in the air

…but it is finally September…

Could you hear the sigh in me

As I wrote it out full…

September…

Last night a deer felt at home in the field

This morning,

A hawk graces the sky above me

My creek saunters on

As lyrically as always

To wherever it goes

But to my gaze it all seems the tiniest bit different

Far more exquisite than mere words

Can tell

It shimmers from the inside

As though by a faery’s whispered spell

I take a step

And another

…and another still

Gentle ones made carefully

So as not to disturb the tender things

That call the ground home

While I search the pine straw for a feather

…there isn’t one to be found

Perhaps there will be when I return

In time for the sun to wish me goodnight

Oh, eventime…

Will the colors be brilliant in their last hurrah

Or faded and comforting

Like my favorite soft jeans

We’ll see

But I don’t want to miss this moment

In anticipation of that one

And so back to now,

Woodpeckers knocking behind me

And turtles preparing to laze themselves long

Hour after hour

Upon the finest fallen log

I wonder at what they will see

While I am away this day

I breathe deeply in

The sweet air of a new dawn

After all it is September…

Some days there is a peace that comes

That nearly overwhelms me,

As silent as a single feather drifting

As mighty as the golden setting sun

All at once my heart knows

Beyond all knowing

That this…

…this is what love feels like…

****

ellie894 September 4, 2019

I could play with these thoughts a while longer and make them just so. I wonder if I’ve made a mistake somewhere that I’ll discover only after I share. So please forgive any missteps. I want only to give them away before this day gets away from me. They’re yours now and my hope is that you’ll find something lovely in them of your very own to keep. May you all find joy and kindness in the days ahead. ❤️

in the heart of every moment…

The music beckoned to me

To go

So I went

In search of what

I cannot be sure

But, when I came to rest

Deep within the soul

Of my own belonging

I looked down to my feet

Planted firmly upon the sturdy ground

And what to my enchantment

Did I find there….

…but an ancient,

primeval forest…

A wildness beyond my imagining

As near as my touch…

It contained its own bewildering completion

Before it would ever even begin

I am mesmerized

As I leave it behind me

Will it stay there

Where I first found it

Or will it travel farther than far

To become all that it was meant to be

The music beckons to me

To go on

So I go

Wondering as I do

At how many moments in a day

Hold the vast possibility of everything

Yet, we move too quickly

To know they are there

I see a primeval forest

At home in the depths of your gaze

I see an ancient universe

Dance in the sparkle of your smile

In the heart of every moment

Eternity is hoping

To become the love story

That it was always meant to be…

****

ellie894 July 30, 2019

Listening to Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony

permission granted…

This morning well before six a.m. I read that time is a circus always packing up and moving away, that nursery fare is supreme comfort and that a story has permission to go anywhere it wants to…

I’ve never liked the circus much. While I’m mesmerized by the talent and strength of the human performers, as a whole the circus of my childhood leaves me sad. I don’t mind watching it move away. Time will never be a still thing and I’m good with that.

Oh to have a day of nursery fare! I Love Lucy on tv, pjs and my favorite soup with melty cheese crackers on the side. A Jammy day! Jack is good at those. He curls up nearby and gladly helps me part with my cheesey saltines. I confess he stares a lot until the yummies are gone. But eventually he closes his peepers and we both nap. It reminds me of my Mimi. I would stay with her sometimes when my Papa was away at the farm. She was safe then from his hands that could be hurtful.

I could sleep as late as I wanted to in the coziest bed! Mimi grew up in Chicago. She knew how to layer a bed for warmth and comfort. She let me stay in my jammies and eat breakfast on a TV tray. And she taught me to crochet…hand work…to take a tiny bit of yarn and create something beautiful…

Where will this story go. I’m not sure yet. All of mine seem to wander around. I always wonder if I’m hard to follow. Nevertheless, there I am…

I didn’t sleep especially well. I hope today will be a good one and not just for myself. We often hope that don’t we…for a good one…whatever the One happens to be.

Hoping for clear skies and kindness

For moonbeams and sweet dreams

….to always find us…

We hope for ourselves and for others at the same time. There it is again, that time thing, packing up and moving away.

I hope that you can rest, that your pizza will be full of your favorite toppings, that you had a Mimi whose fridge always had sweet tea in it, and that the music will soothe you…

Hope falls somewhere between desire and wishing. It’s the embodiment of who you are and how you love the world. It knows the longing of your soul and writes the words that make it real. Desire paints the masterpiece in your heart, and wishing lights up not only the night sky but the whole world around you.

Hope sort of takes the two, desire and wishing, and builds a bridge between them…lays the stones for the one to reach the other. Beethoven does that with a brilliance I can hardly imagine. Every note he has left us is a symphony of hope. He created movements of beauty in the emptiness between desire and wishing. ….and floods my soul with hope.

Renoir does it too…such stunning joyful colors! Even with my eyes closed, the rubies and emeralds and sapphires take my breath away. And Van Gogh…with his passion filled brush. He welcomes my tears as well as my dancing. Vincent tells me that both are ok, both have a place and a time….His creations are all about the movement of the soul. I can feel his paintings sweeping straight into the depths of my heart…. moving is a lovely thing, taking one and bringing another

Beauty arrives in many a disguise. We have only to open the door and let it cross the threshold bearing its precious gifts. Perhaps for you it comes as Corey Taylor’s voice or Kavanaugh’s poetry or Kokoschka’s art. And that’s all very good. It is as it should be.

Ellie is a pup again when she hears the tin of oatmeal cookies open. Bo is a speed demon to my side when he hears the toaster pop. Jack only and always wants to be near whether there is a favorite snack or not. And Dobby is a master at waiting for my return…from anywhere…even from just down to the mailbox!

I’m grateful for cloudy skies, morning thoughts, soft flannel sheets in the winter, and learning to crochet. The circus is all packed up now. Scrambled eggs and cinnamon toast are waiting for me. This story, if you can call it that, has ventured to all the places that I guess it wanted to go. Permission granted….I’m grateful for that too…

****

ellie894 July 9, 2019

wild places and gentle moments…

In East Texas, June air can often be as humid as a rainforest. You pray for it to just let go and rain already. It’s so heavy that I struggle to breathe.

This week hasn’t been that way. The days have had a lovely Novemberish feel to them…inviting me to linger a while…in gentle moments well spent. I have learned much.

Bunnies were born in the yard this week. It began in a frustrating once upon a time, turned into a silly sweet day of caregiving, and finally came to a secure and happy end. I’ll write to you of them soon. Yes, dear Dobby Do was involved.

So, there have been busy hours and not so busy hours, which brings me back to my walking once again….

My breathing changes when I set out to walk each evening. It slows, as do I. To be honest, I don’t walk for exercise. I’m not in a hurry to get anywhere or to do anything in particular.

Forest Bathing is becoming quite a popular thing these days which makes me giggle. It seems I’ve been forest bathing for a long time. Who knew?! I had no fancy name for it or scientific studies to tally up in bar graphs as proof that it was a clever idea. And no, you don’t need soap.

Mostly, it’s about listening…to the trees and the wind…to the birds and the frogs…to the echoes of thoughts in my heart…

In everything there is a longing, to be at peace, to create, to love.

In the wild places everything is a part of the longing and belonging…from the fallen tree to the precious snail. The snail moves as peacefully as a breeze. He pauses often to enjoy the lovely moments…the tiny ones that he knows are worth all the time in the world.

The trees reach ever forth in new creation. Fresh leaves leap into the bluest sky. Fresh roots delve into the deepest earth. Trees create in every which direction from the center of themselves.

And what of love…in the wild places love is everywhere.

Deer keep close to one another in the shade of the sweetgum, listening more carefully than I do for rustling in the leaves. Flowers open in colorful surprise, a gift of last season’s efforts and a whole year’s waiting. Frogs sing to me each afternoon as I blow kisses of goodbye and see ya soon. They probably sing to each other…but it’s nice to imagine it’s for me.

I made cheese ladas this week and had leftover corn tortillas. I shall feed the fish, I thought! No need for waste! The perch were boisterous and seemingly starved! A lone catfish was shy about the whole thing. With time and patience he not only came near but ate straight from my hand. My heart raced in joy!

Then, there was this little turtle. I shall call him Tiny Tim after the turtle in the song that I share with the preschoolers. We giggle and make hand motions and always but always sing it twice…

I have a little turtle

His name is tiny tim

I put him in the bathtub

To see if he could swim

He drank up all the water

Glue glub glub

He ate up all the soap

Nom nom nom

Now he’s home

Sick in bed

With bubbles in his throat

Bubbles bubbles bubbles

Bubbles bubbles pop

Bubbles bubbles bubbles

Bubbles bubbles pop!

Again!!

Tim adores corn tortillas! He easily dispersed the perch and even tried to scare off the catfish who is at least three times his size! He grabbed the tortilla bites from my hand and swam far enough away to gobble them down before returning for more. We went on like this until there was no more. Plus, the sun was setting and it was time for me to get home.

Each day I arrived with something to share. Each day the lake dwellers came in their own way…especially Tim.

Last night I was awfully tired and there had been bunnies all day and I had run out of corn tortillas. So it was that I arrived at the lake empty handed…

The perch splashed at me in gleeful anticipation. The catfish floated gently back and forth at the edge of the pier waiting for my hand. But Tim….he really gave me the “what for”!

He swam close to the pier and popped up…

What’d ya bring me?

When I didn’t give him anything he swam off a few inches only to return and pop up…

Seriously, what’d ya bring me?

He began to come up and just stare at me…quietly staring…

Other times it seemed he had a voice –

Hey?

Hey?

Now?

How bout now?

Now?

How bout now?

Tiny Tim was relentless.

I giggled at his eager enthusiasm. I was saddened that I was such a disappointment to him. I never realized that he would invite me into his world. I never thought they would all come up to the surface of the water because of me. Of course I know hunger was involved, a longing for nourishment. But still, there I am, wondering. I have learned my lesson and shall definitely be taking something to share when I head out to walk later. I have no desire to spend my evening being stared at again by Tiny Tim.

I know there will be more days like yesterday when I have nothing to give. The fish and the turtles will come anyway. I’m grateful for that. Love is not always about doing. Nor should it be. Love is about simply being.

Whether one calls it Forest Bathing or Listening doesn’t really matter. It may be a flower coming up through a sidewalk crack that reminds you of that time…or a single pot filled with herbs that you will use to create a luscious meal. It may be an ocean or a mountain top or a forest with a lake. It doesn’t have to be a big place. You only have to feel the gift of it.

When you find the wild places, the simple ones…you discover they are filled with longing for peace and creation…and they sweetly overflow with love and belonging….

****

ellie894 June 15, 2019

tucked away…

I often write things

that I fear are not worth reading

So, I tuck them neatly away

Fragile thoughts folded in upon themselves

The words fade and the pages yellow

As a memory floats into view

*

…of being ten years old

picking blackberries

in a blazing Texas summer sun

no clouds, no shade, no wind

while my cheeks burn red

my pail remains nearly empty

as i search endlessly

hand to mouth

for the One…

you know which I mean

the One that brightens your lips

in a triumphant juicy smile

of sweet buried treasure

once lost

now found

I eat far more than I put in my pail

it remains nearly empty

so tomorrow

there will be no cobbler

or biscuit jam

tonight

there will be no need of dinner

or dessert

only a cool bath gently run

to soothe my fiery skin

the search was everything

it filled me and fed me

left me weary

in the nicest of ways

sleep will surely come

claiming me for its restful own…

*

Tucked away somewhere

Are some yellowed pages bearing faded words

That I should wander through

It is time

To take them out of hiding

Unfold them

And see if anything has ripened

Sweet enough

To fill a nearly empty pail

Perhaps,

In the morning

We shall have biscuits with blackberry jam

And in the evening

Warm cobbler with cold ice cream

And after that,

When the stars come forth to shine

And the fireflies begin their nightly tango

We shall sleep the weary peaceful sleep

Of being ten years old

At the end of a perfect summer’s day

****

ellie894 June 4, 2019