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?

© 2014-2019/Jamie K. Reaser

From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"

Published by Talking Waters Press

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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.”

© 2014-2019/Jamie K. Reaser

From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"

Published by Talking Waters Press

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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.

©/2014-2019 Jamie K. Reaser

From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World" 
Published by Talking Water Press 

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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.”

~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author

Published in  Conversations with Mary: Words of Attention and Devotion

Winner of the Nautilus Book Award silver medal for poetry

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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!”

~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author

From "Coming Home: Learning to Actively Love this World"

Published by Talking Waters Press 

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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."

For more information, please visit: http://www.hiraethpress.com/books