Feather on the Breath of God
tiny feather, downy white
tucked under the wing
of mother dove
close to her breast
near to her heart
warm and safe
hidden, obscured . . .
I bring my camera to be ready
for that magic moment
when a squirrel, rabbit or deer
will lift its lovely face to me
when a bird or butterfly or dragonfly
will sit still long enough . . .
I can free myself and let the artifice blow away in the wind.
The eyes of my soul can illuminate the black of night . . .
When I am alone
when I let go of my doing
and sink into my being
Sometimes I hear a whisper
of my now and not yet . . .
It’s still dark when I open the back door to let in the cat, but something calls me to step out into the cool stillness. At the edge of the concrete, like Moses, I slip off my sandals and step onto the hallowed grass, cold and wet with dew. . .
Join me for a 12-minute reflection and guided, imaginative meditation video on the wisdom of an autumn tree.
In the dark stillness comes a chirp, a trill
And in the background always the low rumble and growl of the city
The sky gently lightens to misty aqua over glowing gold . . .
When I was a girl
I found a stray kitten
Feral and frightened
it ran and hid
and would not come
to my kitty-kitty calls . . .