Sunday, February 9, 2014


Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

I knew the weather forecast,

so I arose early from under my pile of warm blankets
and put the seed and suet cakes
out for them.

I was still in my pajamas (or, something like that).
It was cold. Bitter.
The first flurries –large flakes – were falling.

They rushed in while I was still standing by the
feeders. They too knew what was coming. Somehow.

And, I started my day thinking about offerings:

How they can become so few and scant
in this human-clad existence.

Yesterday, a new friend stopped by for a chat.

I offered her tea and homemade cookies
of peanut butter and molasses
and other fine things from my cupboards.

And, we talked for a brief while.
This was a mutual offering.

What should one do with a life
that is lived with the luxury
of hands and feet
and eyes
and mouth,

but make offerings?

Once the other becomes visible,

How can you not but go to them
with hands outstretched and full?

(Maybe the invisible ones too.)

I am here, again, at my keyboard,
compiling words, wondering how best I can
make an offering of them to you today.

Somewhere among them is an unwritten question
about the presence or absence of something.


offer it up like the kind of prayer
that you can actually believe in,

like the kind of prayer that can
this world.

And, please: gift it to yourself.

© 2014-2016/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Winter: Reflections by Snowlight"
Published by Hiraeth Press

Feel free to share

No comments:

Post a Comment