​Unseasonal, sing
out loud anyway, your voice 
pealing like a bell.

Today is Remembrance Day, and my daughter all of sudden wanted to sing Christmas songs. We sang the 12 Days of Christmas back and forth from the house to the grocery store and back. There was much laughter as we were trying to remember all of the characters. I started to think about the story that during WWI, on what became known as the Christmas Truce on the Western Front, both sides sang and came above ground to bury their dead. A peaceful moment. My grandmother was born on this day, but she never knew her Dad, a veteran of the time. There is a long story to that, but the Spanish flu was raging in Nebraska, and she was a bright little speck of a baby, they almost named Goldie for her hair. Today has been a joy, our little voices, and remembrance. Who cares about the season when you sing with joy? 

Memory, like flames,
can burn in the hand it's held, 
dissipates with time.

I had a feeling of deep sadness today at one point when an old memory popped up of a friend, and I had a hard time hearing her voice, a conversation we once had. She died too young, and no social media then, just fading color photographs now, besides what's in my mind. We would have had epic conversations about the last four years, the election if she had lived her opinionated life and grown-up.  It made me also think of all of the conversations and relationships with family members that have been ruined by the last four years, not just in my immediate family, but for others. The lack of ease, and as a friend said, an undercurrent of sadness, even if it was not acknowledged outright.  I took a moment to mourn that, as these memories will evaporate in time, like flames given a brush of wind. It was a beautiful day, and there will be many more.

​So end all the fires-
the bright bursts, sparks to the wind,
the tamping of flames.

Our blueberry bushes give off a vibrant red before retiring their leaves for winter. It's a lovely burst of color in what would be a dull patch of grass. It made me think about how some people run on the hot side, and yet cannot keep up the color. Endurance can run out. Not these bushes, and their beauty. We love them with nutrients, and they give back to us next year. The red is like a valentine, a thank you.

​Even golden hours 
fade...hold tight to all the light
like a well inside.

We have spent a lot of time outdoors, soaking up the sunshine, enjoying the light...bringing in all the light during the day that we can, and banking it for winter to come. Yet -this winter may feel more like an extended summer on the inside. 

​Collections of leaves
have made their piles, and sorting
begins the return.

Oh, the endless sorting in fall. Let it all be sorted, and the best of the leaves go back into the compost to help the soil for next year, reinvigorate the garden.... Let the national sorting bring back liberty and justice for all.

​The milkweed whispers, 
the sunlight answers, “Away-
it is time to go.

Today while having another day of school at home, I spied outside more milkweed on the cusp of drying and letting the seeds fly away on their coma, what most of us know as the ephemeral floss or fluff.  We went out at lunchtime and gently helped them puff out in the sun, and be on their way. In these magical little parachutes, each one bears a seed each that may help feed the Monarch butterflies next year. Here's to rhythmic, steady growth and change in the natural world, that does not depend on human whims.

Growth, unexpected,
happens as a small inchworm
across an apple.

Today I measured my daughter as she felt like she had grown again. We mark birthdays and holidays on a wall between the dining room and the living room since she was born. She was right. Even after her birthday her shoes suddenly did not fit, a few sizes larger. We barely saw it happening, and then all of a sudden she is at my shoulder, close to two inches since the lockdown started. I remembered an inchworm crossing a shiny apple once from my yard. It was trying to find a way in and get bigger, slowly, but surely. I wonder where this moth or butterfly went?

The sky is clear blue-
beyond this veil the stars say,
"We will wait for you."

It's been a long 24 hours, and really several years waiting, and waiting.....what I have learned through all of this is that my country has a lot to work to do, to turn a deeper look inward on itself. There will be a bit more waiting. I took a walk this evening after a long day of school at home and work at home. My eyes were hand in hand with Mars and then Jupiter and Saturn. Old friends, coming back to stay for winter. These things do not change and have no care of what happens on the planet. It's good to take a pause and remember a larger universe way up there. ​

Pushing out darkness,
and leaning towards the light
like a high perched hawk.


We have a frequent visitor across the street. I look for this bird every morning, and today it appeared again. I am unsure if it is a red-tailed hawk or a 2nd-year eagle. It is quite large. I am sure it is the one making meals of all of the birds at my feeder. Yet, I like seeing it perched up high and surveying the surroundings, above us all. I wonder how far it can see... I saw an old banner today from the time of the Suffragettes, about moving out of the darkness and leaning towards the light. I'm holding on to that this evening. Let there be light.

​The moon left behind
its landscape with a deep breath
and a chill besides.

My grandmother always said that a full moon is beautiful, but it brings the cold with it. I have found that to be true, especially today. Walking back to my car from work I had the moon's landscape in my mind, whipping wind across a cold landscape. I am not complaining, it's just an observance of change. I see the stars a little brighter at night, even in the city, and have been watching Mars rise above the pine tree. Hello to the passing constellations.Nice to see you again.