Simple Gifts and Magical Moments

The sun slaps, Morning bright, Against the side Of the mountain. Where green trees Normally drape, Heavy and dull, Across rounded shoulders, Champagne colored veils Shimmer and entice. Flashing her sinuous flanks, The mountain stretches. The sun dances away, Taking away glory As morning moves to day.

Today, I volunteered to help set up a tent city at it's new location at my synagogue. This is an organized homeless encampment that travels around;  mostly to churches  Moving Tent City requires a host of people willing to do hard work .We were hauling stuff like pallets, plywood, tents and boxes. Some of the people involved  were residents of Tent City and some were volunteers. Yes, you could recognize some as either residents or volunteers but labor is an amazing equalizer. For many it was really unclear what label applied. Some people were from churches, some from the synagogue, some were not native English speakers, some were young and others very old. We were all just people working hard together. You would hear these conversations, where a resident realized they were talking to someone who was a volunteer. I heard several people say thank you, but then the conversation would move on. I was talking to someone who I thought was a volunteer and turned ou...

You learn to recognize her moods. Sometimes she is soft and gentle. Her touch slides across you, Soothing and calm. She sings a lullaby, As she wraps around you, Covering you with with her embrace. Other times she sparkles. Her voice chortles. Her dance is sinuous and enticing, But her coolness makes you wary, And you keep your distance. Today she is swollen and heavy. She wraps herself in veiling fog, But demands attention. She slaps you with cold power, Barely contained. No one can ignore her.

We, who are civilized, like to idealize and sanitize Nature However, birth is a bloody, painful process that can end in sorrow and suffering. Death isn't always quick and painless like my childhood nature shows proclaimed. Natures glory is not always green or gold. Ask the farmer or the logger if Nature is gentle. Mud and muck, snot and slime, Nature can be a stern and unforgiving mother. The fetid odor of putrification and eutrification Is as much her perfume as roses and spring breezes. Today, I looked at the ruler straight snow line on the mountain. The trees above stood out bright and strong against the twilight sky. It reminded me of a winter display found in the shopping mall. Perhaps I should be comforted by the sign of order and beauty, But I felt uncertain and distant and longed for Natures intimacy.

October Is the month Of depression. It leaves me Swollen with emotion, Dark and crumbling, Like a rain soaked Rotten log. There are moments though, Crisp and bright, When the leaves dance And the trees whisper. My spirit stirs, Remembering That as a child I laughed And chased the wind. Breathing the musk Of autumn, Full of emotion and memory, I embrace the change.