Snow, Rain, Spring, Seasons and Spirituality

As an observer of the news and a participant in its disemination for over 50th years, I find it hard these days not to comment each day on the political chicanery coming out of Washington.

My sense of life that there is so much more to it than politics provides the escape to things with meaning and things that cling to the other power.

Snow is here again today. Snow is here again today…did I already say that? It seems like I’ve been either saying that or hearing that or seeing that for the last four weeks.

But alas…that is winter in the northeast and so be it.  BUT… Spring is here too.

Winter's spring is here and season's rain on the west coast where barren and burnt terrain produces powerful flows of destruction. I pray with the collective prayer that people will be safe and earth's erosion will cease.

Have you ever wondered about the spiritual and poetic significance of the seasons?

Let’s start with Spring and its snow melt and warming rains. When gentle, nothing changes, but when it’s a torrent, it is a different story.

Erosion

Water carves an open slice
in earthen crust to view.
Roots of Trees, in sacrifice,
dangling, drying, all askew.

Stand beside this suckled swath,
see nursing roots entwined,
Weaving deep a mineral path
A probing poke with stones enshrined.

A single root does no good
holding life secure to ground
Where lacing light is understood
and frees the green unbound.

Behold the bold of other roots
and the strength they give as one,
Many mingled braided shoots
Hold earth from water’s run.

There is a truth in nature’s cut,
how helping gives a strength,
Protecting from eroding rut
so life can have its length.

Erosion speaks not a word,
its language is precise.
The wisdom of the undergird,
for man, is sound advice.

Summer’s wisdom is also profound!

Garden Grace

Two blossoms yellow, proud above the green,
stand strong and know their love is seen
By all who wander and by those who gaze
into this garden of wonder, a maze.
Color binds attention and form holds grace
attracting heart and spirit to this place.
The flowers stand as one and separate too,
symbols of the noble ones, too few.
They come to see and hold this place in love,
responding to an essence from above.
The nectar is the wine the flowers hold,
toasting through the touch of zephyr’s gold.
Tell all strangers who pass here, walking by:
The fragrance of the flowers glorifies
The spirit of the earth and nurtured seed
that blossoms into beauty when we need.

The fall is a time of gathering and getting ready for the winter cold.

Firewood

Wooded light stands darkly
ready for expression.
Letting go the warmth within,
giving up possession.
How powerful is this teacher,
this lecture of the wood,
Remembering the gift of sod
and light from a tree that stood.
It only takes a spark
to change the wood to fire,
And feel the sun again
in a golden lighted pyre.
Whoever holds a match or thought,
not knowing how it ends,
Gets sulfured cries of pain;
therein truth transcends.
In life and wood see the light,
the heat and the fire,
Then live in the moment,
as love becomes your choir.

And finally, Winter comes with its harbinger "Jack."

Jack Frost

We much malign a draft of cold
slipping round a window old,
A chilling dash of winter clime
that paints a pane in ice of rime.
Without the draft and warmth within,
the crystal etch could not begin.
So let us praise the weathered sash
that lets us see a frost panache.