Monday, March 27, 2023

First Word: Suzanne Adam: Isolation



Meditation while in isolation

In silence…

Just the whisper of wind teasing

The leaves in the trees


The rustle of Judy turning pages

Danette clearing her throat


Construction machinery

Beep-beep, bang-bang

The distant swoosh of traffic


Last month

At the lake

Almost perfect silence

At night only

Country dogs barking


Early morning

Long-legged ibis honking

The crested elaenias whistling

Distant voices of fishermen

Trolling on the lake

Their motors purring


For meditation I step outside

Breathe in the air

Perfumed by boldo trees and native grasses

The cool on my face is calming

I drink in the lake scene

That liquid bowl

A gift

Always there



Down by the lake

The soft sound

Of tiny wavelets

Licking and lapping the shore.

Thursday, March 23, 2023

First Word: Mary Judith Ress: Isolation


Could I pretend to be Mary Oliver and find joy inside such a word?


SOLA—yes, but never alone.

Because there is the robin and the wren.

The blind cat with her paw upon my sleeve.

Old Santi asleep in his chair

While I write from that space

Filled with eternal longing.

For a Home I don´t remember.

But it smelled of lavender.

And mother’s milk.


No, never alone.

But always that longing

To go back to where I came from

Where the river splashes over my toes.

The breeze sings lullabies in my ear.

The old Oak folds me in her arms.


And they are all there in the circle.

Aunt Bee and Aunt Judy.

Betty and Clarence.

Ca and Will.

Transformed—Sunbeams all.