Threshold
Under the weight of ice and snow,
saplings bend, touching the earth,
a threshold to
yet another invitation
to slow time,
to admire what surrounds me.
Passing through,
our walk becomes more beautiful.
Reclaiming prayer
Prayer used to look like this: my eyes closed, head bowed, hands folded while someone addressed a male god.
Today prayer looks like this: my eyes open, face to the sky, arms outstretched while I lie in the snow, feeling the earth beneath me, breathing in awe, breathing out gratitude.
After eight inches of heavy, wet snow
Along the trail I find bent saplings, the ends of their branches buried in snow. I tug to release them, and the young trees spring back. What’s weighing me down? I wonder. What do I want to release?
Winter maple
Pairs of small, tight buds
with sharp points
contain what they need for this year’s growth.
Wrapped in protective scales,
they wait
for the tree’s knowing.
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