september light

To the Light of September

When you are already here
you appear to be only
a name that tells of you
whether you are present or not

and for now it seems as though
you are still summer
still the high familiar
endless summer
yet with a glint
of bronze in the chill mornings
and the late yellow petals
of the mullein fluttering
on the stalks that lean
over their broken
shadows across the cracked ground

but they all know
that you have come
the seed heads of the sage
the whispering birds
with nowhere to hide you
to keep you for later

who fly with them

you who are neither
before nor after
you who arrive
with blue plums
that have fallen through the night

perfect in the dew

– W. S. Merwin

image: ‘origin’, mixed media mono print on paper

september . 4 . 2018

you are

“You are the sky. Everything else – it’s just the weather.”

– Pema Chodron

image: summer sky near Bend, Oregon

august . 6 . 2018

finding where


Answer July—

Where is the Bee—
Where is the Blush—
Where is the Hay?

Ah, said July—
Where is the Seed—

Where is the Bud—
Where is the May—

Answer Thee—Me—

– Emily Dickinson

image: ‘beyond saving’, painting with mixed media on wood panel

july . 8 . 2018


“Let us dance in the sun, wearing wild flowers in our hair.”

– Susan Polis Schutz

image: ‘new day rising’, watercolor, wax crayon, graphite, tissue paper, on paper

june . 5 . 2018


“When we contemplate the whole globe as one great dewdrop,

striped and dotted with continents and islands,

flying through space with other stars all singing and shining together as one,

the whole universe appears as an infinite storm of beauty.”

— John Muir
image: sunrise at Kunjapuri Temple, India
may . 07 . 2018


“There is a story of a woman running away from tigers. She runs and runs and the tigers are getting closer and closer. When she comes to the edge of a cliff, she sees some vines there, so she climbs down and holds on to the vines. Looking down, she sees that there are tigers below her as well. She then notices that a mouse is gnawing away at the vine to which she is clinging. She also sees a beautiful little bunch of strawberries close to her, growing out of a clump of grass. She looks up and she looks down. She looks at the mouse. Then she just takes a strawberry, puts it in her mouth, and enjoys it thoroughly. Tigers above, tigers below. This is actually the predicament that we are always in, in terms of our birth and death. Each moment is just what it is. It might be the only moment of our life; it might be the only strawberry we’ll ever eat. We could get depressed about it, or we could finally appreciate it and delight in the preciousness of every single moment of our life.”

– Pema Chodron

image: ‘flow’, monotype print on paper

april . 6 . 2018


Your hand opens and closes, opens and closes.

If it were always a fist or always stretched open, you would be paralysed.

Your deepest presence is in every small contracting and expanding,

the two as beautifully balanced and coordinated as birds’ wings. – Rumi

march . 9 . 2018