Archive for the 'nature' Category

One Stone

amywink October 6th, 2018

This dark grey stone
with lines of quartz
turned under the glacier’s
weight, not crushed
to dust but formed
and smoothed
by that solid shifting
ice until the one
degree made
all the difference
and out from beneath
that fracturing
blue and snow
this stone now
in my small hand,
waited as if
for Samuel,
a stone of help,
waited as if
for David,
one of five,
just enough
against Goliath,
waited as if
for me,
and just such
a moment
as this.

Tending My Eden

amywink April 14th, 2018


A stranger stopped by
yesterday to tell me he
could make my yard spectacular
by clearing what he deemed
a mess and overgrown.

I asked the price for such
a miraculous change
and knowing that it wasn’t
something I could,
or even would, afford
despite the lower
second offer, I declined
because he didn’t know
where the beauty was
in all the mess he saw.

But I know beyond the mess.

I know what delightful beauty
waits here in this wild unruly green.

What may look like death
is only dormant and
will by my patience
eventually erupt
in spectacular bloom
when I have greater
need of the glory.

I know where the memories are,
the things I’ve inherited,
and my reasons for planting
some of this rough growth
that has endured in my benign neglect.

I do not mind the mess
I am simply waiting to attend.

And by this morning,
this gardener has woken
into this cool Spring day
and with my happy spaniels,
I have begun this seasons’ work,
thinking of the loveliness I have made,
what things I know of deliberate planting,
what I understand of different
rates of bloom or the timing
of my pruning if I am to be rewarded
with the flowering I intended,
what I must by necessity
cull if everything is to grow
as well as it may, and even
what volunteers I will
allow and foster simply
because their surprise will
make this unconventional Eden new
with their blooming
if I will wait
to see what happens
in this greater undertaking.

This garden may not be a landscaper’s dream,
stripped of difference for easy mowing.
Because I have planted something else
and I myself will slowly
tend all that is growing
into the wilder beauty
that I intend for it to be.

The Gift of Fire

amywink October 19th, 2017


The Gift of Fire

After the destruction
of enraged burning,
radiant spires
erupt out of
earth blackened
yet hardly dead,
phoenix from ash,
a flame of grace for
a charcoal landscape.

When you, during
weary afternoons,
gaze out this
photograph into elsewhere,
think of me
and know I,
looking through
my own window
remember you,
growing beauty
where there
once was


A Late Answer

amywink September 5th, 2017

A Late Answer

“How do you know it’s the Holy Spirit?”

“I don’t know.”

And yet, I do
because I am standing up,
Not running,
Not falling,
braced as if at my shoulder
steadied though my voice shakes,
I do not run, I speak.

Perhaps we know
the Spirit arrives
in the feeling
that we need,
whether peace
or courage,
or righteous anger
or small kindness,

Arrives with the sound
of an owl’s wings,
a presence known
only after
listening to the
descending trill
from the far off trees,

like this late answer.


amywink February 28th, 2017


Like a wave laps
the lake shore with
the slow rocking
of the earth,
memory returns
again and again,
not crashing,
but caressing
the stones,
wearing them first
to pebbles,
then to sand,
glittering in the light.

Where once the ruffled
crests pushed against
the harder shore,
each wave will
smooth the coastline simply
by returning presence,
rising, rising, rising.

In those waves of memory,
every end becomes beginning,
every no worn away to yes,
every moment that seemed a loss
becomes a smoother gift of truth,
clear and glittering,
dancing with the light.

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