Friday, June 29, 2012

The First Sounds of the Morning


Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

What if you dedicated
the first sounds of the morning
to gratitude?

What then?

Might the birds, having just
limbered their wings and
stretched out the toes that
gripped all through the night,
comment on
your voice at dawn?

Might the trees who have
known so little appreciation for
their shade and fruits,
cry,

like lovers cry when the
moment they never believed
would come
is suddenly a memory?

Might the sun, a
Master of Power,
finally learn what it
feels like to receive warmth?

I’ve heard the jack-in-the-pulpit
silently rendering a sermon,

and watched a muskrat put his

hands in prayer position
just before nibbling off golden
flower heads

as dawn pinked.

I’m thinking that it would be good
to realize that we are home
every morning,

and to give thanks for the
privilege.


~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author
From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"
Published by Talking Waters Press

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Monday, June 18, 2012

Walking Through the Garden




















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

We could make a life
out of this little black pebble,
and this bee-dancing flower,
and the wispy cloud skating
across the hot blue horizon.

I don’t know what the robin
wants me to remember of
its morning song,

But I do know this –

Everything around me is
choosing to live,

And has a way of collaborating
in the great conspiracy of
“what ifs.”


~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author
Published in Coming Home: Actively Learning to Love this World

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Friday, June 1, 2012

Taking a Walk















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser


The turkey vulture’s rocking,
dihedral shadow crosses over me,
the road, the meadow, the mountains,
and a future
that can only be scripted
by those aspects of me
apprenticed to longing.

My feet proceed:
One, two, three four.
One, two, three, four,
Like someone has told them
that what is at the end 
of this journey is so 
worth the
effort.

Upon my approach,
a pair of brown thrashers rise
from their dust bath
cup,
emptying the Earth body
of their bodies.

I kneel and finger the
lingering warmth. 

Do they know that I look
upon their effort to rid
themselves of parasites
as a hand gesture of
the Beloved?

This is what it is all about,
isn’t it?

How we choose to See things.

© 2012-2015/Jamie K. Reaser
Published in "Sacred Reciprocity: Courting the Beloved in Everyday Life" (www.hiraethpress.com)

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