Sunday, November 23, 2014

Robins in the Black Gum

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

You can see how Summer was good to them,
their robust breasts gleaming in the mirror of
the afternoon sun, and they are cheery. They
have a way of speaking about things that sounds
as if rejoicing, never reluctant, and this, even
after the early season freezes put ice on the pond
already. But they are meaningful too, dropping the
black gum seed where it will grow, and holly,
and I saw them not long ago at the dogwood berries.
Brilliant red. People don’t think much about this
anymore, I know, but birds plant the forest. Other
animals do too. Squirrels, for sure. Yes, angels are
common among us and doing such good deeds. I
swear. How is it that we miss the grandeur of it all?

© 2014-2015/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"
Published by Talking Waters Press
Available thru and other major retailers

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Friday, November 21, 2014

Where I Live

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

“Where are you going?” asked Crow.
“Home,” I answered.
“Is that a place?” asked Crow.

“It’s like a roost,” I said. “And,
 a nest. A roost and a nest combined.
Well, it’s where humans do most
things,” I concluded.

“Oh,” he replied. “Then why are you
out here in the woods with us
every day?”

“Because,” I answered,

“This is where I live.”

© 2014-2017/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"
Published by Talking Waters Press

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Monday, November 17, 2014

Who Paints the Sky?

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

Who paints the sky? And, why has it
taken me so long to think to ask?
I want to know who is up there
to love, and how I can bargain, if
I might, for more days to end like
this one:

in attentiveness,
in wonderment,
in devotion.

©/2014-2017 Jamie K. Reaser
From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World" 
Published by Talking Water Press 

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Wednesday, November 12, 2014

A Moose in the Rain

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

She thinks the face of a moose is as sad
as the face of Jesus.  But, Jesus didn’t look
sad when we met. And, the moose, he
was, I’d say, fully accepting of his awkwardness.

All my life, I’ve been trying to be that moose,

though, until now, I wouldn’t have said “moose,”
maybe “duckling,” because that’s the story I
remember being recited to me, repeatedly, during
an awkward  childhood; they, perhaps, thinking  it
a salve, but I’ve never looked and seen a swan
looking at me,

so when I saw him there, his fleshy proboscis
lipping shrubbery in the pouring rain of Denali,
his body his own and soaked in its true nature,
I thought:

“This is magnificent! I am a moose.”

©2014-2017/Jamie K. Reaser
Published in  "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"

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Saturday, November 8, 2014

The Black Dog

Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

The black dog looks at me through big chestnut eyes
and says, “Someone couldn’t love me.”
And, I stroke his silky ears, and then his soft neck,
and I say, “If they loved you, you wouldn’t be
here now, with me.”
And, he wags his tail and, I think, smiles
as he exclaims:

“Oh, now I understand!”

© 2014-2018/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"
Published by Talking Waters Press 

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Wednesday, November 5, 2014

Now Available!

"Jamie K. Reaser's newest collection of poetry is a celebration of simplicity. Written during winter snow storms, the poems explore the essence of the season and what it is to have the routines of modernity stripped away when the power goes out. In this simplicity reside the profound truths that Nature and human nature have to offer those who have the courage to sit still and get quiet enough to listen. Place your chair in front of a warm fire and take Winter: Reflections by Snowlight into your hands."

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