inhale to receive exhale to give
Earth our waitress
comes to the table in her rumpled apron
stained with a hundred juices.
“What will it be this morning?”
“Let’s start with some mist
in one of those green valleys,
and a cup of black loam with
a single tree frog.
Then fallen apples over easy
with extra worms,
a side of scattered leaves
in a caramelized sunbeam.”
“That comes with Summer’s last
abandoned bird’s nest salad.
Or soup of the day, fern bog
with skunk cabbage and blue
chanterelles.”
“I’ll take the soup,
a half carafe of Autumn rain,
and a cruller the shape
of a groundhog’s hole.”
She remembers your order by heart.
Old ones keep coming back to this place.
They bring grandchildren.
She knows what you love.
There’s a line to get in.
Sometimes it seems
we have to wait a year,
but its worth it.
🍃
Alfred K LaMotte
Packed in my mind lie all the clothes
Which outward nature wears,
And in its fashion’s hourly change
It all things else repairs.
In vain I look for change abroad,
And can no difference find,
Till some new ray of peace uncalled
Illumes my inmost mind.
What is it gilds the trees and clouds,
And paints the heavens so gay,
But yonder fast-abiding light
With its unchanging ray?
Lo, when the sun streams through the wood,
Upon a winter’s morn,
Where’er his silent beams intrude
The murky night is gone.
How could the patient pine have known
The morning breeze would come,
Or humble flowers anticipate
The insect’s noonday hum,—
Till the new light with morning cheer
From far streamed through the aisles,
And nimbly told the forest trees
For many stretching miles?
I’ve heard within my inmost soul
Such cheerful morning news,
In the horizon of my mind
Have seen such orient hues,
As in the twilight of the dawn,
When the first birds awake,
Are heard within some silent wood,
Where they the small twigs break,
Or in the eastern skies are seen,
Before the sun appears,
The harbingers of summer heats
Which from afar he bears.
🌞
The Inward Morning
Henry David Thoreau
Every night before I go to sleep
I say out loud
Three things that I’m grateful for,
All the significant, insignificant
Extraordinary, ordinary stuff of my life.
It’s a small practice and humble,
And yet, I find I sleep better
Holding what lightens and softens my life
Ever so briefly at the end of the day.
Sunlight, and blueberries,
Good dogs and wool socks,
A fine rain,
A good friend,
Fresh basil and wild phlox,
My father’s good health,
My daughter’s new job,
The song that always makes me cry,
Always at the same part,
No matter how many times I hear it.
Decent coffee at the airport,
And your quiet breathing,
The stories you told me,
The frost patterns on the windows,
English horns and banjos,
Wood Thrush and June bugs,
The smooth glassy calm of the morning pond,
An old coat,
A new poem,
My library card,
And that my car keeps running
Despite all the miles.
And after three things,
More often than not,
I get on a roll and I just keep on going,
I keep naming and listing,
Until I lie grinning,
Blankets pulled up to my chin,
Awash with wonder
At the sweetness of it all.
🤗
Three Gratitudes
BY CARRIE NEWCOMER
these two pictures are from Robin OK’s morning from Michigan. The rest are from my morning walk in Branford, CT with Phoebe Snow Good Times!
adding this below – just sent via text from my friend, Anni, currently in Scotland for her daughters wedding!!
and from my friend, Bill…this day just keeps giving…
and from the lunch table
life: acoustic & amplified 