Saturday, April 23, 2016

What We Want From A Flower
















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

Tell me nothing,
and I won’t believe
you. Within you
there is longing,
something

that you want from
a flower, maybe it
isn’t a fancy thing,
but I’ll bet it is
profound. Life

changing, maybe.
Have you thought
about this? I hadn’t
until today. I’m

thinking about
it now, how I want,
no, expect, flowers
to make things
better. They do. Isn’t  

this interesting? I wonder
what a flower wants,
no, expects, from
me.



© 2016/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Conversations with Mary"
To be published by Talking Waters Press in 2016

Feel free to share

Saturday, April 16, 2016

The Way A Flower Opens
















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

Have you ever been kissed the way
a flower opens? Those with short lives
must know something of pleasure,
mustn’t they? And beauty, whether
it be their own or they just choose
to find it everywhere. I think that
flowers must kiss bees, and butterflies,
and, yes, the heavenly air as much as
they dare. I won’t say an unkind thing
about that.



© 2016/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Conversations with Mary"
To be published by Talking Waters Press in 2016

Feel free to share


Saturday, April 9, 2016

Standing There




















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser


I happened to be standing there.
Initially, it didn’t seem like a particularly
special moment or a special place, although
there is something special about everything
and everyone, it’s just that some people
keep what is most special secret. I know.
But, there I was, making one of those
silent prayers that you make in the woods
because it’s your cathedral and there it came,
wide wings low across the trail and whoosh
to the toe of my boot, big, dark saucer-eyes
looking up, straight into mine, locked for an
eternity-second. There was blood on the
tip of its beak. Interesting, I thought. Without
words, it said, “I claim you.” And, that was that.
Some prayer was answered. I’m not sure
which one. Maybe, it was all of them.



© 2016/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Conversations with Mary"
To be published by Talking Waters Press in 2016

Feel free to share

Sunday, March 20, 2016

Spring
















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

Every year
when it comes,
I ask myself:
“What am I emerging from?”
 “What am I emerging into?”

Sooner or later we must leave
the darkness. Ready or not
the brisk air of early spring
wants bodies to hold on to.

So, I think on the others coming forth.
The bear and her cubs that have been
hidden among the rock walls
above my cabin.

The frogs and salamanders that
were below ground,
breathing through their skin.

The flowers, a sacred pattern
of cells laid out on an invisible
blueprint of celebration.
And I have a question:

how too do I take myself into this world?
I think about how it seems
so effortless to them.
There they are where they
weren’t before.

But poets like to find things,
like an idea,
like a meaning,
something that causes stirring,
because a world that always
sleeps cannot awaken.

So, this is it, I think:
some words on a page,
some questions arising among
them.

Here I am saying,
“It is spring!”

And asking you to notice
that something wants
to emerge,

and must.



© 2016/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Conversations with Mary"
To be published by Talking Waters Press in 2016

Feel free to share

Saturday, March 19, 2016

The Carolina Wren
















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser


It is daybreak and the Carolina wren calls
out from the thick of old boxwoods that stood
around a log cabin and someone else’s lives with
a loud, cheery greeting that has defied the
intricate telling of at least two poets. 
They won’t sing it either. But, they know how to
pay attention, appreciate, and praise a thing. 
Anything. And, this is what he is doing too. This 
bright chortle must be praise. Maybe it is for 
daybreak. Maybe spring. Maybe simply the fact 
that he has a song when so  many have forgotten 
theirs. It could be that it is about tasting a morning 
seed, or little jumping spider, or simply that it is 
with song that he tastes this life. Poets can do the 
same thing with words. We won’t starve. Praise 
satiates. I want to believe that we all have some 
way of coming alive each morning and care to do it, 
to taste this life, and have the courage to say there 
is something holy inscribed in all of it. It’s not 
necessarily about bread or wine. It doesn’t require 
formality. You can be rascally about it, like the wren, 
like some poets. Guess which ones.
There is a wren in the boxwoods next to me.
I have a cup of  tea. And, I’m so grateful
that I couldn’t contain myself.


© 2016/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Conversations with Mary"
To be published by Talking Waters Press in 2016

Feel free to share

Sunday, March 13, 2016

This Night the Rain Spoke to Me
















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

This night
the rain
spoke to me
heavy, saying,

“I will create
a place for holding
lovers and their spawn,

and you will be happy
with this earthly life.”

And, it kept its promise
and dropped.
For hours.

And, the night smelled
like spring,  like yearning,
like sex. Like life hell
bent on renewal.

And, I listened to all
the voices crying out
in the darkness
and understood

everything they
said.

And, some part of me
was very happy.



© 2016/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Conversations with Mary"
To be published by Talking Waters Press in 2016

Feel free to share

Saturday, March 12, 2016

How Many Mornings
















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser


How many mornings have I risen and forgotten that
rising is a gift? The sun streaming through my window,
or a grey horizon, or rain pelting the metal roof: gifts.
And, the bird song or just bird banter. The dogs begging
with their big brown eyes to be fed the same kibble
they were fed yesterday and all the days before. Gifts.
Mornings deserve tenderness, a caress of gratitude, a
little recognition that nothing is promised. I think that
we could learn to say, “Thank you!” to the sunrise
and keep the world alive.



© 2016/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Conversations with Mary"
To be published by Talking Waters Press in 2016

Feel free to share