Divine Peony

So many gardens I’ve grown yet always for others;
But temporary temples betwixt and between worlds:
Yamas and niyamas, yoga postures and bills to pay,
Forgive my debt great fathers, grandmothers,
As I melt into essential essence,
A moment synchronous with dreamtime.

White dahlas hang their sleepy heads as
Her perfume wafts gently...
Sunset explodes while I find kindness,
Centered in the expanding lightness of being
Fushia peony bobbing it’s pettled face, below the
Redwood tree in full sunlight,
As if to say ‘all is well’!
Welcome to my garden of peace, love and light
In the evening light while singing in the Temple of Divine Mother exists.

Sometimes I think the only thing that really exists is love,
Sometimes I don't know what a single thing is---
Then the wisdom comes, with fragrant effulgence,
like so many gardens I’ve grown yet always for others;
But temporary temples betwixt and between worlds.

Sunset explodes while I find kindness,
Centered in the Expanding Light' patio garden
Fushia peony bobbing it’s head below the redwood tree,
In full sunlight, Sat Chit Ananda........
Welcome to my garden of peace, love and light
In the evening light while singing in the Temple of Divine Mother exists.

written at Ananda Village 2008 

Rutabaga Buddha

He’s begging for food as I am

Eating my good rutabaga stew!

Blessed by Devas green,

Both nutty and sweet,

The taste is obscene.

Kale, deep green,

with black beans shining,

Chunks of cherry tomatoes left from summer simmering.

Thyme and onions-carefully dried wisdom knows,

The Stone Buddha from the garden altar glows.

Serenity and simple pleasures are mine-

Watching the rain wash our sins away,

wash our carbon memories away,

wash the pain and angst away.

A wind fills the emptiness,

Snow falls as sacred silence-

A silver tone sounds.

The Holiness Of Trees

The Holiness of Trees

She lifts her head to the sun

Opening her heart to a breeze-

                 Her arms shake in delight of wind

How many breathes in a lifetime has she

Before being Christened by fire?

Sacrificing her life protecting others,

                 That which choses to escape, surrendering

Vulnerability and strength, holding fire at bay.

We blame her as a disease, for what seems like Mother’s rage—

Where would we be without the nourishment of trees?

We breathe their breath as they transform our air;

With trees, grace is our hope and our destiny.

Dancing, burning brightly before us

She carries our shame-

                   O Holy Shaman, Asherah.

Burning of a deep smoky penetration into the forest,

Capturing death, repulsing living breathing organisms.

Escaping terror, finding Red Cross compassion and care,

In our modern drama of trauma- shocked yet grateful-

We cling to each other in tender desperation.

Breathing the air that still pervades, under the smoke-

Under our best neighbor- a tree, shelter for our soul.

Finding peace in the resonance that gives us water,

Memories and tears make the clay of tomorrows art;

Our hearts are full in gratitude, bitter with remorse.

When it becomes time to take up our maker’s tools

We find that our best support comes from trees, 
                     Rebuilding our dwelling for rest and life;

What do we turn to besides the clay that creates our building blocks, adobe?

But those who wield the tools that they use to build the wooden reframing,

Continuing our lives with trees, we rebuild our hopes for a more stable existence;

The panels of patience, within a sanctuary of tables and chairs, gladly

Preparing repast in which to celebrate living, the ultimate fruits are the

Beauty of the earth, and our Mother who provides trees for sustenance;

Crowning the sanctuary of our dreams-every night we find rest in our spaciousness.

Wandering in our graciousness, happiness comes as a way to know

Each other as friends, our time to grow strong in love again.

Peace in the Community Garden

The garden is my sanctuary;

Delicate interplay of plants, both colorful and lovely;

Summer heat brings succulent squash,

My strength is restored to face a world of uncertainty.

As water bearer I feel nurtured with kindness,

Lavished with beauty, I see-

Evolving forms of form, color, texture, and taste-

Vegetables of various genus, offering food and seed.

The green unfurling leaves of tomato plants,

Hanging red pendants, ripe and overflowing;

Sentinel yellow Sunflowers watching over-

Tender purple kale, rainbow chard ever-growing.

Companion plants of basil and cucumbers,

Deep red beets harmonizing w/kale ;

Aroma of savory sage fills my breath,

Harlequin beetles dance, calendula regails.

Totem hollyhock flowering deep red and pink

Death in life reveals itself- reseeding;

Gentle breeze as a pair of golden finches visit,

Begs for a radish sprout, just greening.

Okra pops its head up as if to say, ‘all is well.'

Interdependent community laughs and grows,

Holy basil spreads wisdom over the garden,

Gentle peace pervades as creeping thyme knows.


Middletown Community garden, 2018

                                                           Ode to a Lettuce Deva
                                                               (written for Harbin newsletter, 2002)


                                   Rays of sunlight glimmer,
                                   Yellow, the corn leaves shimmer;
                                   I quiver in delight,
                                   A faery is calling my sight!
                                   Reaping the fruits of devic toil,
                                   Spilling calendula oil,
                                   You grasp the tomato ripeness,
                                    Its' skin bursting ruby kindness.

                                    I spy her secret regis-
                                    A devic spirit disguised as lettuce,
                                    Reaching for for its last brood,
                                    Begging to be loved and understood;
                                    Head crowned in purple bells,
                                    Impish energy deep in dells,
                                    Spindly arms seven spiraling.
                                    I sighed, "I am" she cried!
                                 

                                                                     Her Web

                                                      To the Sidhe (pronounced 'She' in Gaelic)

                                        "God and Bridget blessed the race that Blessed
                                             the name of Woman."  …..Seiman Macmanus.


                                                                     I say:
                                                          As an artist paints,
                                                          So am I a Wic'can,
                                                          Ancestry (Celtic) a'beckoning-
                                                          Through aeons of timeless
                                                          Fractaling space: crying
                                                          The Four winds of Eirinn.

                                                          The trees are companions,
                                                          Solitude my guide:
                                                          Shrubbery my paint brush,
                                                          The sun the very paint I apply,
                                                          Spiderwebs are my canvas,
                                                          Wind my inner sensibilit(i)y.


                                                           Elo Devi Heart (2012)