If I gave you advice you would not take it as I would not If I told you all those lessons hard learned bruised and tear stained you would just brush them aside only to hold fast to your own pinned ribbon of woe and sorrow pain and fear But this I will say and take it or leave it you are a wonder, a creation of great worth a beloved, well suited for your life ahead you are strong and mighty stand up and move forward the path is cleared
Epiphany-tide, ordinary time before our Lenten ashes and fasts how extraordinary this time of silvered days etched with gold scented with resinous incense of cedar and myrrh sweet grass braids draped across sturdy Saint Joseph release their green scent each time our door opens to the cold wind as the sound of angel wings drift in with the snow time enough for reflection in iced panes blue as the Madonna's shawl that blue of trumpeting morning glories and mourning that results in joy ahh the quixotic nature of faith in light of all that would make it unseemly and foolish yet, here we are in the ordinary time of Epiphany praying for the scales to be rubbed from our eyes and the touch of a garment to heal our stigmata wounds chalking C M B along the lintel and shoveling a path on the road to Gethsemane
I sweep and wash the old year's crumbs away remnants of garden visits and broken bread memories polished and mirrored lingering laughter dusted off treads of beloved feet inscribed on each stair how these walls respond to caress lovingly scented of sandalwood and quiet joy
glass baubles, walls so thin its seems they would melt at a touch glittery as neon or stars that light the nights path from sinner to saint its all wrapped in tissue of conjecture and parable passed down from mother to daughter gaudy decorations hanging from an evergreen bough
warm days. feeling of late September or those strange days in March when winter struggles against spring but its December. a week from the new year and I walk the garden with the certainty that I have left whatever was behind, and time is on holiday ever green, ever more
cold rain graying the day sluicing garden path slate and mossed green mists hang heavy in delicate bamboo limbs hiding light in pale jade leaves bowing in deep regard to winters return streaked dark bare limbs tarnished with rain silver and gleam
Look for my mark when you are passing this way a symbol you will notice but others will ignore, dismissing as nothing but wear and tear or spotty paint, faded into odd markings but you will know, this is the way I'll be waiting at the end of the road
listen the wrens are warbling their watery tune sending notes clear as prayer into the blue heaven what more do you want from a Tuesday near Solstice rise up and sing
May you and yours be merry and bright!
a candle's flame burns as well as illuminates in light I wait
thecourseofourseasons 