Reflections

I live alone hermetic in my heart

While life as ever swings from tree to leaf.

Hydrangeas are in bloom remembering

The frozen months when I was deep in grief.

They suffered – five degrees killed clematis,

The climbing fern survived, though barely, as I

And sends its twining tendrils to the sky.

The heat of northern Georgia starts anew

As heavy rains bring blossoming of life.

Even in winter the heat of India

Is more than our summer's breathless days.

One must work. The yoga of the body

Conscious we or not is in the cells.

Perhaps this cancer is a code that spells

In symbol signs the end of pain and death,

The million evolutionary trials

That called the final avatar's descent.

Earth shall be saved and man exceed his kind

And God from blinded eyes shall lift the veil

That we who view with jaundiced eye our race

No longer turn towards the night our face.

I throw raw meat to feed the starving hawks,

Eighty percent mortality in young.

Species transformation? Eiseley speaks

Of multitudinous experiments

Witnessed at the edge of tidal pools.

I who have known the miracles of grace

Living now in a dark unfriendly place,

Call forth the soul, but never have I seen

The light of God that some say dwells in me,

Though I have burned, experienced a fire

Intensely flaming licking at the dark

Corners so resistant to the light,

In other's though have felt the nameless source

And in their touch the purifying force.

The mallards call me from my brightened door

Speaking in tongues I sometimes understand,

I surrender to the sun, the day begins.

Ultimately all sorrow we must expunge.

It is a day of daffodils and phlox.

Remembering most her laugh, her warming smile

I sit among the scented fields awhile.

We are guided towards a goal we cannot see,

Spurred on by an unknown identity

Lost is the ability to leap

Towards the future casting off the past.

O God descended into human form

(Now the iris, now the peony)

We were not ready, unprepared for Thee

And once again your life was sacrificed.

The lake is still today, the lilies deep

In their enchanted sleep soon must awake

From the mud of centuries to bloom

In purity as spring bulbs fall asleep

And we enjoy a modicum of peace

In Nature's moment of creative ease.

It is the time of roses and the soul.

No landscape is complete without the heart

And the impress of feet by earth revered,

Sunlight and the song of living things

And the remembered music of the dead.

In the lily's breath, the violets modesty

I walk humbled, joyous, praiseful, free.