riding on a snowflake

Riding on a snowflake 

How serendipitous that we arrived just in time to catch a ride on a crystalline snowflake. As we settled in on our wintery dew drop, we floated like swimmers on their backs in a salty lake.  More falling droplets surrounded us, winter nectar, whispers from the sky, pure white luminous cold. Soft feathery tickles on our skin, kissed by the universe, cascading through the air. A single stitch in a veil of white. The ice-covered trees reaching for us as we landed in a powdery pile on a milky sea. All we could feel in the stillness were our heartbeats pulsing. All we could see was downy falling from above, and the silky virgin of fallen snow. We watched the wind loosen her robe and dance its designs across the undisturbed fluffiness that had become the midwestern plain. 

I wrote this poem in response to a prompt suggesting that I write a postcard about a fantastical adventure. It was kinda fun!

Remembering how to laugh

Wind blowing through the palm trees, San Agustinillo, Mexico
Remembering how to laugh 

One day it happened. 
I didn’t know it was going to. 
In fact, I had no idea how much it was needed. 
But, it did. 
Like a flash, on a camera or of lightening. 
I quit trying to control every little thing.
I simply let go of all that I was holding so tightly. 
I allowed the wind of joy to blow into my soul. 
And I remembered how to laugh. 

This poem is also part of a collection I put together called All the Shapes of Joy.

not knowing

Ireland, Ring of Kerry, near Killorgin

Not Knowing
By John O’Donohue

how would it be to allow for knowing
and not knowing:
allowing room
for the mystery
of creating
to be able to wonder
softly
without needing to understand everything
to trust in the process
to trust in love
to trust in the mystery and wonder
of the universe
that beats softly wildly
true
all round about us,
that is hidden
in the mists
in the clouds and the rain
in the wind blowing and the rain lashing down on your window,
reminding you
poetically
prosaically
that this is where you are,
on the island,
at the edge,
in a place of finding
and refinding,
and remembering
to remember
the feel of the mist, wind and rain.

I first discovered this wonderful poem on Radiating Blossom and found it to be an invitation to open to not knowing, to allow space for mystery, and to feel what’s present in the moment.