dandelion dust

dandelion in full bloom

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A Brief Ode to Wool Socks

Thou tender encasement of woolen yarn,
Thou cocooning shelter of pooled warmth!
Sturdy cocoon, a harbor ‘gainst frost, your purled patterns
offer refuge for flesh, previously freed
to frolic in mosses and dance ‘round leafleted trees.
Toes dug lightly in the warm scented earth
that bred spring dandelions, nurtured the summer rose.

That same dirt -- now wearied with care – by Issue
fully ripened and birthed, and now full circle carried
to Harvest Home with thankful praise and blessings given,
while Mother Earth quilts herself in rust and grey.  
Her blanket shelters the slumbering Fruits, hiding them
from Winter’s chill that slides past trembling Rays,
ushering in stillness and somber reflection.

As frost lingers and our Fair Sun hides her face,
Grant me Thy armor, Thy cordial affection!
Shield my extremities from Winter’s sly suggestions
of seasonal despair; wrap my numbed feet
in your loving embrace, and safeguard their memories
of Spring, simple joys and youthful pleasures.
By your grace, free them from Winter’s misery.

bent fin

with forward thrust
ripple swells to wave
recall painted gold —
your sodden beeline
swayed by bent fin

This story, heard on NPR, left me pondering just what drives the decision-making process for folks who swear “never again” –and then head straight back to “it” . . . we’ve all experienced it. It’s a common element in our shared humanity.  Whether our “it” is just one more apple fritter, five miles over the speed limit one too many times, one more glass of wine, it doesn’t matter. I have no answers. Just imagery of what it looks like in action. Perhaps what’s needed now is to develop more common imagery and words describing what now guides the new direction, shapes the path, defines the plumbline.