Robins at rest in the wild plum tree

Some of the robins at rest out our window

This poem is about the view out our window in November, my view of the human world right now, or yours, or about the importance of allowing wild whole beings to just be themselves now. Be our selves. I'm a Gemini, friend. Don't ever make me pick just one point or perspective. ;-)

Robins at rest in the wild plum tree

Here in late
fall
it's plain
to see
robins
at rest
in the wild plum
tree.

An ancient bare being
covered in lichen
& ancestor squirrel
planted this younger tree
both needing
a wilder one.

Now in vibrant
September
deer arrive
just on time
preferring
whole small
wild plums
to larger
cultivations.
We wonder
how many deer kin
have planted
more
wild ones.

Then really right now
in fallen-leaf
N

e
m
b
e
r
all can see the cover
her denser branches &
ample thorns offer
fluff-happy flocks
resting within her
at ease & safer
in the wild
plum
tree & becoming
so clearly
our ancestors'
winter holidays
ornamental
inspiration.

When hungry men optimize
for big-tougher fruit & some people
not for
land kin, birds, trees
squirrels, sky, deer & bees–
they have nothing
at all–
on our wildness
on wilderness.

They have nothing
at all
on those who plant
wild plum trees by accident
and those who plant
because they & their future
absolutely need
her whole
imperfectly perfect
being.
They have nothing
at all
on those who
slow down to respect her
on those who
attend her &
on those who
adorn
her
right here
fully present
all in with her
this, beloved-again
fallen-leaf
November.

Photo of the night sky with dark trees in the foreground silhouetted against greenish northern lights.

Getting to the feelings just beyond dread

Here in month 6 of debilitating long Covid chronic fatigue and other nonsense, I don't have the energy for much. But I'm an empathic being who loves to talk about meaningful-to-us things, so I still spend a chunk of time every day now talking

Photo of two canning jars: one yellow (goldenrod infused olive oil) and one red (St Johns wort infused olive oil)

Remember to swing your arms as empire crumbles

A poem today followed by my favorite meme this month. Darkness and light belong together. We belong together. Loss and grief teach that. Pain held by community teaches that. Chronic illnesses teach us that together. Wise women and all smiling, weeping, sensitive elders teach us that. It's one

A photo of our family at a pumpkin patch, surrounded by bright orange pumpkins, a rusty old truck, blue sky, a tree turning red, and our a smiling fluffy Australian Shepherd dog.

The Adventures of an HBS (Human Banana Slug)

As we left the house this weekend, we saw a huge and beautiful spotted banana slug super-slow-strollin' across the patio. They (most slugs, including banana slugs, are both/and, so they is singular—plus, I asked and they told me their pronoun preference) were intentionally carrying a

A photo of a home office with a view of Douglas fir trees, a wood desk, an old dark blue and rose rug, the corner of a piano, a gray comfortable chair, and a single bed for napping

Introducing ourselves well vs. fixing ourselves and others

There are some new folks here. So I thought I'd combine a sort of Wonders Never Cease and Lori introduction–we're always changing here—with sharing a few simple things that I'm personally unlearning/learning/being/doing this fall. Welcome friends. This is us.

Robins at rest in the wild plum tree

Read more

Getting to the feelings just beyond dread

Remember to swing your arms as empire crumbles

The Adventures of an HBS (Human Banana Slug)

Introducing ourselves well vs. fixing ourselves and others