Pause

Pause. It doesn’t have to be the blue iris, it could be weeds in a vacant lot, or a few small stones; just pay attention, then patch a few words together and don’t try to make them elaborate, this isn’t … Continued

Pause. I go down to the edge of the sea. How everything shines in the morning light! The cusp of the whelk, the broken cupboard of the clam, the opened, blue mussels, moon snails, pale pink and barnacle scarred— and … Continued

Pause. I am clearing a space here, where the trees stand back. I am making a circle so open the moon will fall in love and stroke these grasses with her silver. I am setting stones in the four directions, … Continued

Pause. The sound of a bell still reverberating, or a blackbird calling from a corner of the field, asking you to wake into this life, or inviting you deeper into the one that waits. Either way takes courage, either way … Continued

Pause. By the lake in the wood in the shadows you can whisper that truth to the quiet reflection you see in the water. Whatever you hear from the water, remember, it wants to carry the sound of its truth … Continued

Pause. If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never … Continued

Pause. Back when the earth was new and heaven just a whisper, back when the names of things hadn’t had time to stick; back when the smallest breezes melted summer into autumn, when all the poplars quivered sweetly in rank … Continued

Pause. The river is my sister — I am its daughter. It is my hands when I drink from it, my own eye when I am weeping, and my desire when I ache like a yucca bell in the night. … Continued

Pause. All summer the mocking bird in his pearl-gray coat and his white-windowed wings flies from the hedge to the top of the pine and begins to sing, but it’s neither lilting nor lovely, for he is the thief of … Continued

Pause. When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake … Continued