Taking Shape


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I am the incomprehensible silence,*


early morning mist whispers over the meadow

spider silk glistens from branch to mailbox

dew-dropped webs cloud the grass

goldenrod sparks yellow in first light


I am cast forth on the face of the Earth.


In my old slippers and last year’s trench coat

I walk the long gravel drive

and talk to God


and…the voice of many sounds,


Oh, Great Invisible, Mother Spirit,

(I don’t know to whom I speak)

who speaks in bird calls,

whistles, chirps, the swish of tires

a rustle of oak leaves

the sigh of the pines


who will translate?


 the word in many forms;


Dig is the word

I hear

a garden.



Plant new seeds: delphiniums or determination?  Coreopsis or confidence?

Pull out weeds: purslane or self-pity? Nettles or negativity?


Am I too old to do this alone?


*excerpts from Thunder, Complete Mind, from the Nag Hammadi gnostic gospels, Why Religion? by Elaine Pagels

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