29 february 2016,leaving for,Arizona

Leap Day

comes in quiet like some ordinary day

the rising tide of light

washes up on the shores of morning

now indigo .....now easter blue

spirit returns from the adventure of night

and leaps into -- rock,deer,tree,you,me

our fiery star leaps

up onto the ridge

throwing the glow of life

all over everything 

giving us one more chance

to leap

from every day mind into

the wonder of being

rub the sleep from your eyes

leap into the body

your Life

into this very day

where there are

a thousand ways

to know love

and spring is a promise

that will be kept

Cathy Caspar

28 January ,departure of Tinie and Francois

De Wolken

Ik droeg nog kleine kleren ,en ik lag

Lang - uit  met moeder in de warme hei ,

De wolken schoven boven ons voorbij

En moeder vroeg wat ik in de wolken zag.

En ik riep: Scandinavië, en : eenden

Daar gaat een dame,schapen met een herder,-

De wond'ren werden woord en dreven verder,

Maar 'k zag dat moeder met een glimlach weende

Toen kwam de tijd dat 'k niet meer naar boven keek,

Ofschoon de hemel vol wolken hing

Ik greep niet naar de vlucht van 't vreemde ding

Dat met zijn schaduw langs mijn leven streek

-Nu ligt mijn jongen naast mij in de heide,

En wijst me wat hij in de wolken ziet,

Nu schrei ik zelf ,en zie in het verschiet

De verse wolken waarom moeder schreide 

Martinus Nijhoff

12 januari,2016 Snowflakes

A walk

By R.M Rilke

Translation Robert Bly

My eyes already touch the sunny hill

going far ahead of the road I have begun.

So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;

it has its inner light,even from a distance-

and changes us,even if we do not reach it,

into something else,which hardly sensing it,

we already are; a gesture waves us on,

answering our own wave....

but what we feel is only the wind in our faces

1 january ,2016

One Art

The art of losing isn't hard to master;

so many things seem filled with the intend

To be lost that their loss is no disaster

Lose something every day,accept the fluster

Of lost door keys ,the hour badly spent.

The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther,losing faster;

places,and names,and where it was you meant to travel

None of these will bring disaster

I lost my mothers watch.And look!my last ,or

next -to- last,of three loved houses went

The art of losing isn't hard to master

I lost two cities,lovely ones.And vaster,

some realms I owned,two rivers,a continent

I miss them,but it wasn't a disaster.

-Even losing you( the joking voice,a gesture

I loved) I shan't have lied.Its evident

The art of losing isn't hard to master

Though it may look(write it !)like disaster

Elisabeth Bishop

29 December 2015. snow storm

La nuit n'est jamais complète

Ilya toujours puisque je le dis

Puisque je l'affirme

Au bout du chagrin une fenêtre ouverte

Une fenêtre éclairée

Ilya toujours un rêve qui veille

Désir à combler faim à satisfaire

Un cœur généreux

Une main tendue une main ouverte

Des yeux attentif

Une vie la vie à se partager

Paul Eluard

 

11,December 2015

            HOPE

"Hope" is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without words -

And never stops -at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale -is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little bird -

That kept so many warm -

I've heard it in the chillest lands -

And on the strangest sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity -

It asked a crumb - of me

Emily Dickinson 

Saterday,28 november,2015

"J'ai reconnu le bonheur au bruit qu'il a fait en partant"

Jacques Prévert

21 October ,2015,St John's Newfoundland

Between living and dreaming

there is a third thing.

Guess it

Antonio Machado

7 août ,2015 summer matures

Let yourself be silently drawn by the stronger pull of what you really love." ~Rumi

7 July 2015, El Bolson,Patagonia ,Argentina

The whole of my life
is summed up in these three phrases:
I used to be raw
Then I was cooked
Now,
I am on fire.

Rumi

Don’t leave me raw.

Sun,13 June 2015

Rumi

Don’t claim in spring on stone some verdure grows
Be soft like soil to raise a lovely rose—
For years you’ve been a stony-hearted man
Try being like the soil now if you can!

Water,9 June

We will be known forever by the tracks we leave.

Dakota proverb

THE JOURNEY

Above the mountains
the geese turn into
the light again

Painting their
black silhouettes
on an open sky.

Sometimes everything
has to be
inscribed across
the heavens

so you can find
the one line
already written
inside you.

Sometimes it takes
a great sky
to find that

first, bright
and indescribable
wedge of freedom
in your own heart.

Sometimes with
the bones of the black
sticks left when the fire
has gone out

someone has written
something new
in the ashes of your life.

You are not leaving.
Even as the light fades quickly now,
you are arriving.

David Whyte

19 mai 2015. NORTH

The backyard apple tree gets sad so soon,   

takes on a used-up, feather-duster look   

within a week. 

The ivy's spring reconnaissance campaign   

sends red feelers out and up and down   

to find the sun. 

Ivy from last summer clogs the pool,   

brewing a loamy, wormy, tea-leaf mulch   

soft to the touch 

and rank with interface of rut and rot. 

The month after the month they say is cruel   

is and is not.

BY JONATHAN GALASSI

31,November 2014 ,I survived the night

Messenger

"The only way to keep a gift alive is to pass it along."

by Mary Oliver

My work is loving the world.


Here the sunflowers, there the hummingbird—


          equal seekers of sweetness.

Here the quickening yeast; there the blue plums.

Here the clam deep in the speckled sand.


Are my boots old? Is my coat torn?


Am I no longer young, and still not half-perfect? Let me

          keep my mind on what matters,


which is my work,


which is mostly standing still and learning to be

          astonished.


The phoebe, the delphinium.


The sheep in the pasture, and the pasture.


Which is mostly rejoicing, since all the ingredients are here,





which is gratitude, to be given a mind and a heart


          and these body-clothes,


a mouth with which to give shouts of joy


          to the moth and the wren, to the sleepy dug-up clam,


telling them all, over and over, how it is


          that we live forever.

27 april,sunday

Immense et Rouge  Immense et rouge   Au-dessus du Grand Palais   Le soleil d'hiver apparaît   Et disparaît   Comme lui mon coeur va disparaître   Et tout mon sang va s'en aller   S'en aller à ta recherche   Mon amour   Ma beauté   Et te trouver   Là où tu es.

                                                                   Jacques Prevert

16, february 2014,Recognition makes you curious, and then you fall open.

Beautiful poem

BY JOHN YAU

Come live with me

And we will sit

Upon the rocks

By shallow rivers

Come live with me

And we will plant acorns

In each other's mouth

It would be our way

Of greeting the earth

Before it shoves us

Back into the snow

Our interior cavities

Brimming with

Disagreeable substances

Come live with me

Before winter stops

To use the only pillow

The sky ever sleeps on

Our interior cavities

Brimming with snow

Come live with me

Before spring

Swallows the air

And birds sing.

Deep in the winter,18 January 2014

 Ikkyü ,Koans

When,just as they are,

White dewdrops gather

On scarlet maple leaves,

Regard the scarlet leaves

Happy new year ,1 January 2014

Always we hope

Someone else has the answer

At the center of our being

You have the answer

And you know what you want.

There is no need

To run outside

For better seeing.

Nor to peer from a window.

Rather abide at the center of your being

For the more you leave it,the less you learn.

Search your heart

And see

The way to do

Is to be.

_lao Tzu

Winterday,10 December 2013

Fame is a fickle food (1702)

BY EMILY DICKINSON

Fame is a fickle food

Upon a shifting plate

Whose table once a

Guest but not

The second time is set

Whose crumbs the crows inspect

And with ironic caw

Flap past it to the

Farmer's corn

Men eat of it and die

November night,19 November 2013

Return from Picton ( Ontario) ,grateful for two wonderful workshops for Rose haven Farmstore .

November Night

BY ADELAIDE CRAPSEY

Listen. .

With faint dry sound,

Like steps of passing ghosts,

The leaves, frost-crisp'd, break from the trees

And fall.