​Becoming midi: The Beginning
 
Push, push, and emerge
Into cold air, white walls,
Gloved hands holding,
Spanking me to breathe?
And a howl
 That came from me.
Or did it?
I never thought to ask.
Did they place me on
My mother's chest?
Or did they whisk me away
To the quiet white room?
Several days later my mother and I
Went home.
But I turned yellow and had to
Return to the white room.
Actually a different one,
The ICU not the NICU.
Now gloved hands touched me,
A needle pricked my foot,
Drawing blood, giving blood.
I was reacting to my mother's negative blood
With my positive blood.
Masked faces, muffled voices
Then silence. Or not?  Buzzing of machines?
Never darkness.
Always white, white light, white walls.
My mother? Watching from the window?
Or at home with my brother and sister?
So many questions I never asked.
I only know my foot was pricked
So many times that they had trouble
Finding another spot to  prick.
Did I cry? I feel as though I did at first
But then stopped because it became routine
And crying didn't help.
Six weeks of blood transfusions,
Friends of my parents, my Dad's colleagues
Lined up to donate blood to me, even
Professor Papandreo, later ruler of  Greece.
I never told them all thank you.
I hope my parents did.
Six weeks. A critical time for a baby's
Development.
My mother said I was smiling
Before I came home.
So it couldn't have been too bad.
One learns to smile from seeing smiles, no?
So I must have seen faces without masks,
Faces smiling down at me.
But did anyone hold me? I think not.
They didn't do that then. They kept
Everything clean,  sterile.
Yet I l learned to smile.
To this day, I love smiles
And crave,  but do not seek, touch.
 

            The other day, as I sought
            Treasures from the past,
            I looked into my
            glass-doored cabinet.
            Saw a pair of red  booties.
            I never knew who or where,
            Just kept them
            because they were old.
            This time, I turned them over
            And saw a little slip of paper
            And learned they were mine.
            Given to me by my grandmother,
            My mother's mother,
            Never known to me.
            Just a vague figure
            From the past.
            A gift across
            time and place.
            So, thank you
            Olga Marie,
            Thank you for
            Thinking of me
            From the insane
            Asylum.

Perpetual Motion
 
The seasons cycle year in, year out.
Each season has its flavor but
Bleeds into the other. 
And each year is the same
But different.
 
Winter begins with rain,
Signaling end to Autum.
Rain leading to puddles,
Overflowing creeks,
Welcome water in the reservoirs
 
Cedes to Spring
When strawberries
Come to farmer's market
And bulbs bloom prolifically.
Rain showers punctuated by
Sun and rainbows. and warmer air.
 
Here summer sneaks in
With two weeks of heat
That cede to foggy mornings
And chilly nights,
But warm sunny afternoons.
And wild oats go to seed. 
 
A few days of heat in August
Then cooler air creeps in
The days grow shorter, 
Shadows grow longer,
And Autumn arrives once more.

                                       


It was the next to the last night of Posadas. The villagers gathered together in the town square.  They knew there was a war going on, but nothing would stop them from gathering and going house to house singing until finally they would come to the last house where they would be invited in to party all night. 
The town was festive, with lanterns and colorful cut paper flags hung from every pole in the plaza. They knew the house where they would stop last would also be gaily decorated. 
The women, wearing colorful skirts and shawls, gathered in the square and called their children to them. There were few men as they were all in the jungle fighting the enemy. So the boys not quite old enough to be fighting with their fathers and some older girls who could play an instrument led the procession. They went from house to house, singing, being met at the door by the older folk too feeble to join the procession and the smallest children. Despite the war, despite the absence of the menfolk, the atmosphere was festive. For wasn't this Navidad, the celebration of Christ's birth? Wasn't this an age old custom that no war or famine could kill?
Finally they reached the last house, which was gaily decorated. They sang their last song, asking for shelter, and the door flung open.
"Come in, come in," the people inside called gaily. And the throng lined up to enter. 
But just then a man came running up. 
"Do not enter," he called.  "The soldiers are coming. You must all flee! All women, old people, and children must go hide in the jungle!"
As the people thronged around him, asking questions, he sent them home to gather their families and a few belongings. Then he sought his young wife. They had only been married a year and she was pregnant. She  would give birth any day.
She looked at her husband in terror. "I cannot flee, José.  It is too far for me to walk."
"Let us go to the church to see the priest,"  he said. "Perhaps he will have a way."
He hurried away and his wife followed as quickly as she could.  
The priest was just closing up the church when they arrived. The man hurriedly explained their predicament.
"You must flee too, Father," he said. "The army will kill you. They do not care about God."
"I will stay with my church," the pastor answered calmly. "But yes, you must flee. Here, take my burro. He is not large and he is not quick, but he is steadfast and strong enough to carry your wife. Take her into the jungle and find a safe hiding place. You know the forest well and which trees provide a haven."
The man nodded. "Thank you, Father. And may God bless you."
The pastor made the sign of the cross over the man and woman and led them into the shed where the little burro stood contentedly eating its hay.
The pastor put a bridle on the burro and a blanket over its back, then the woman climbed on. He brought a warm blanket to put around her shoulders. He went inside and brought back a bag filled with food. Then he tied a bundle of hay on the burro's back behind the woman. Food for your strength and straw for the child's bed when it comes," he said. 
They heard gunshots in the distance. "Come, you must hurry."  And the priest led them out to the street. He made the sign of the cross over the woman and the man then the burro. "Vayan con Dios." 
The husband took the rope  and led the burro and woman out of the churchyard into the plaza. He went to the back of the church away from the courtyard and hurried as fast as he dared without hurting the soon-to-be mother. The pastor noted the rifle slung over his shoulder. He would be coming back to fight and defend the town. 
When the soldiers arrived into town, they found only a few old folk who refused to open their doors. The soldiers did not bother with them. They would return to pillage when their supplies had run out, but tonight they were seeking the young men, the fighters, either to persuade them to join the army's side or to take them prisoner. The church was dark and they left it alone. They cared not that it was Christmas. They were fighters now, sworn to kill the enemy, to take over the villages. What did the church mean to them? Still, a few soldiers looked at the dark church and felt a stab of sorrow and despair. Had their people come to this? War and strife? Loss of family, friends, and community? 
The man led the burro, with his wife astride, deep into the jungle. He knew the area well and  where he was going. But it was hard to find sure footing in the dark. He dared not light a lantern. He sought out one large tree he knew. It had sheltered him many times when he hid from the soldiers. It was large, with a hidden cave nobody could see from the path. 
They saw nobody else. Everyone had fled, each to their own hiding place. Finally, he saw the large tree, with its mighty trunk and widespread roots. He felt his way and led the burro down through the roots of the tree. There the roots spread and surrounded a large open space unseen by  and  protected from the outside world. He helped his wife down from the burro and made her a bed of branches with the blanket laid atop. She lay down, exhausted. 
"José, the baby is coming soon. You must find someone to help."
He nodded. "I will go out and give our secret sign. Hopefully, someone will hear. Some of the townspeople must be hiding nearby."
He went out, leaving  his wife huddled against the burro for warmth and comfort.
Soon her husband returned with a man, his wife  and  two older children. The woman was experienced with birthing mothers and had brought more blankets and straw. The woman and her daughter could do without. 
The two men and the boy slung their rifles over their shoulders and headed out to hold off the soldiers when they arrived.  
Late that night, the woman went into labor. It was her first child and she found it hard. But the older  woman with her was experienced. She told her what to do, when to breathe and when to push. Her daughter she kept busy fetching water, bringing blankets, and giving the woman water to drink. Finally the baby arrived. The older woman rubbed the baby with straw, cleaning it well. 
"It is a girl," she announced, holding her up for the new mother to see. Then she laid the baby on her mother's body, to keep her warm and comfortable.  It mattered not that they were sheltered under a tree trunk. Giving birth was universal whether at home with a midwife present or in the jungle, whether animal or human. "Her name is Esperanza," the new mother announced, caressing her daughter. "May she bring hope to us all.."
The burro had stood quietly watching the activity from the opening in the roots.  He now entered and lay down next to the woman, putting his head at her shoulder. Then he nuzzled the baby gently. 
"He is warm. Let him stay," the woman murmured. And she fell asleep with her child nestled against her and the burro at her side. 
The helper woman and her daughter found corners in the little root hut and made themselves comfortable with dry grass and one blanket each. All slept. 
In the morning, the root hut was dark, but when the woman and her daughter went up to the opening, they saw the sun shining brightly and felt warm air. It would be a fine day. They also saw the woman's husband who had arrived in the dark and stood outside guarding the little hut all night.  
The woman invited him in and he went to his wife then bent over his new daughter. 
"Are you disappointed that it is a girl?" his wife asked anxiously. 
Her husband reflected for a moment. "No," he said slowly."I think it is best in these times. She will not be called to be a soldier.She can have children and raise a family."
"And the name?"
"You already named her quite aptly. She will be our hope, hope for a better future, for peace not war. She will raise children who can do good in the world instead of destroying everything.". 
 "And she arrived just on time for Christmas so her second name will be Noelle. If you agree?
Her husband nodded.  He smiled despite his fatigue and caressed her gently. "You did well," he said. "Now, God willing, perhaps the fighting will stop for Christmas Day at least. For some of the soldiers are church goers and others like to party, so they will not be wanting to fight today."
"There was a star last night," he said. "A bright star I had never seen before. It shone so brightly that I could find my way back here without a light and without anyone seeing me."
His wife nodded. "The Christmas star. It knew where it was needed."
Throughout  the day, people came out from hiding as they had not heard any gunshots. They began to gather at the tree hut and celebrated the new birth with whatever they had to share. Some women had even brought tamales with them. 
A young soldier from their town  showed up, a wide smile on his face. 
"The priest says to come home," he said. "There will be a Mass and then a party, for today is Christmas. The town is safe. The soldiers came through but they left the old people alone. And our men sent the soldiers away. They told them to go back to the city and party. They  were only too willing to do so." 
So the new father put his wife and baby atop the trusty burro again, wrapped in many blankets this time. Every woman wanted her blanket to cover the new baby girl. The children ran ahead then the men followed, but the women stayed with the new mother on the donkey, forming a procession behind her. "Feliz Navidad," one called out. "Feliz Navidad." another answered. And soon there were Christmas greetings ringing throughout the jungle. One woman started to sing "En Nombre del Cielo" and another joined in, then another. Soon they were singing all the Christmas carols they knew and before they knew it, they were out of the jungle and on the edge of town. 
They hurried to the church, where the menfolk, still dressed in their dirty worn uniforms, greeted their families exuberantly. Then the priest came out and invited everyone inside. The soldiers had left the church alone, he said. Except for a few who requested permission to come in to pray. "They are people just like us," he said. "Not evil, just following the wrong leader. May God bless them and teach them a better way."
"And now," he added, opening the large door to the sanctuary, "It is time for Christmas Mass. But first a blessing for the child, whose baptism will come later. And after Mass, there will be a Christmas feast "
He beckoned to some older women standing nearby in their finest dresses and shawls. "The meal was  prepared by the older women who had to stay home but, thanks be to God, were spared and left unharmed. Let us all give thanks today!" 
He beckoned to the new mother and her child, who were standing next to the trusty burro. Then the priest led the burro into the church and had him stand next to the crêche. He gave a blessing to the new child and his parents, one to the burro, and a prayer of thanks for everyone's safety. Then he motioned to the organist and Christmas Mass began.
The following week, after the Christmas festivities had ended, but before the New Year, a baptism was held at the church. The peace had held, the men showed up without rifles, and the entire town, old and young, was there to celebrate the newest addition to their town:  Esperanza Noel. 
Esperanza grew up in peace, for the leaders had grown weary of the fight and began talks. A new government was formed and gradually life changed for everyone. Esperanza grew up to be a fine girl then a young lady, who was kind and helpful but also very smart. Instead of getting married and having babies in town, she moved to the city to study. She became a fine doctor, known throughout her country. Then she joined the government where she was always a voice of peace and reason, and the older men learned to respect her and listen to her opinion.
And the trusty burro? He was well cared for and loved for his part in the Christmas journey. He continued to live with the priest, but the townspeople built him a new, spacy corral and shelter. He was comfortable but continued to be modest and unassuming. He died eventually, as burros do and was remembered every Christmas in story and song. And his name? Well he never grew larger and he remained modest. He didn't seek the limelight. He was happy with some good hay and an occasional scratch on the back. So he continued to be called "El Burrito."



​

​​Era la penúltima noche de posadas. Los aldeanos se reunieron en la plaza del pueblo. Sabían que había una guerra, pero nada les impediría reunirse y cantar de casa en casa hasta que finalmente llegaban a la última casa, donde los invitaban a festejar toda la noche.
El pueblo estaba festivo con faroles, y coloridas banderas de papel recortadas colgaban de cada poste de la plaza. Sabían que la casa donde se detendrían por última vez también estaría decorada con gran vistosidad.
Las mujeres, con faldas y chales coloridos, se reunieron en la plaza y llamaron a sus hijos. Había pocos hombres, pues todos estaban en la selva luchando contra el enemigo. Así que los niños, que aún no tenían edad para luchar con sus padres, y algunas niñas mayores que sabían tocar un instrumento encabezaron la procesión. Iban de casa en casa cantando, y en la puerta los esperaban los ancianos demasiado débiles para unirse a la procesión y los niños más pequeños. A pesar de la guerra, a pesar de la ausencia de los hombres, el ambiente era festivo. ¿Acaso no era Navidad, la celebración del nacimiento de Cristo? ¿No era esta una costumbre ancestral que ni la guerra ni el hambre podían matar?
Finalmente llegaron a la última casa, que estaba decorada con gran esplendor. Cantaron su última canción, pidiendo refugio, y la puerta se abrió de golpe.
"¡Pasen, pasen!", gritaba la gente alegremente. Y la multitud hacía fila para entrar.
Pero en ese momento un hombre se acercó corriendo.
"No entren!" grito. "Vienen los soldados! ¡Deben huir todos! ¡Mujeres, ancianos y niños, escóndanse en la selva!"
Mientras la gente se agolpaba a su alrededor, haciéndole preguntas, el hombre los envió a casa para que reunieran a sus familias y algunas pertenencias. Luego buscó a su joven esposa. Llevaban solo un año casados y ella estaba embarazada. Daría a luz en cualquier momento.
Miró a su marido aterrorizada. "No puedo huir, José. Es demasiado lejos para caminar."
"Vamos a la iglesia a ver al sacerdote," dijo. "Quizás él encuentre una manera".
Él se apresuró a irse y su esposa lo siguió tan rápido como pudo.
El sacerdote estaba cerrando la iglesia cuando llegaron. El hombre le explicó apresuradamente su situación.
"Tú también debes huir, padre," dijo. "El ejército te matará. No les importa Dios."
"Me quedaré con mi iglesia", respondió el pastor con calma. "Pero sí, deben huir. Tomen mi burro. No es grande ni rápido, pero es firme y lo suficientemente fuerte como para cargar a su esposa. Llévenla a la selva y encuentren un escondite seguro. Ustedes conocen bien el bosque y saben qué árboles ofrecen refugio".
El hombre asintió. "Gracias, padre. Y que Dios lo bendiga."
El pastor hizo la señal de la cruz sobre el hombre y la mujer y los condujo al cobertizo donde el pequeño burro estaba comiendo contento su heno.
El pastor le puso una brida al burro y una manta sobre su lomo, y luego la mujer se subió. Le dió una manta abrigada para que se la pusiera sobre los hombros. Entró y trajo una bolsa llena de comida. Luego ató un fardo de heno al lomo del burro, detrás de la mujer. «Comida para tus fuerzas y paja para la cama del niño cuando nazca», dijo.
Oyeron disparos a lo lejos. "Vengan, deben darse prisa." Y el sacerdote los condujo a la calle. Hizo la señal de la cruz sobre la mujer, el hombre y el burro. «Vayan con Dios».
El esposo tomó la cuerda y condujo al burro y a la mujer fuera del cementerio, hacia la plaza. José pasó por  la parte trasera de la iglesia, lejos del patio, y corrió tan rápido como pudo sin lastimar a la futura madre. El pastor notó el rifle que llevaba colgado al hombro. Volvería para luchar y defender el pueblo.
Cuando los soldados llegaron al pueblo, solo encontraron a unos pocos ancianos que se negaron a abrirles las puertas. Los soldados no se molestaron con ellos. Volverían a saquear cuando se les acabaran las provisiones, pero esa noche buscaban a los jóvenes, a los combatientes, ya sea para persuadirlos de unirse al ejército o para tomarlos prisioneros. La iglesia estaba a oscuras y la dejaron en paz. No les importaba que fuera Navidad. Ahora eran combatientes, habían jurado matar al enemigo, tomar las aldeas. ¿Qué significaba la iglesia para ellos? Aun así, algunos soldados miraron la iglesia a oscuras y sintieron una punzada de dolor y desesperación. ¿Había llegado su gente a esto? ¿Guerra y conflicto? ¿Pérdida de familia, amigos y comunidad?
El hombre condujo al burro, con su esposa a horcajadas, adentrándose en la selva. Conocía bien la zona y adónde iba. Pero era difícil encontrar un punto de apoyo firme en la oscuridad. No se atrevió a encender una linterna. Buscó un árbol grande que conocía. Lo había protegido muchas veces cuando se escondía de los soldados. Era grande, con una cueva oculta que nadie podía ver desde el sendero.
No vieron a nadie más. Todos habían huido, cada uno a su escondite. Finalmente, vio el gran árbol, con su imponente tronco y extensas raíces. A tientas, guió al burro hacia abajo entre las raíces. Allí, las raíces se extendieron y rodearon un gran espacio abierto, invisible y protegido del mundo exterior. Ayudó a su esposa a bajar del burro y le preparó una cama con ramas, con la manta encima. Ella se acostó, exhausta.
"José, el bebé va a nacer pronto. Debes encontrar a alguien que ayude."
Él asintió. "Saldré y daré nuestra señal secreta. Ojalá alguien la oiga. Algunos habitantes del pueblo deben estar escondidos cerca".
Salió, dejando a su esposa acurrucada contra el burro buscando calor y comodidad.
Al poco tiempo, su esposo regresó con un hombre, su esposa y dos hijos mayores. La mujer tenía experiencia con madres que daban a luz y había traído más mantas y paja. La mujer y su hija podían prescindir de ellas.
Los dos hombres y el niño se echaron los rifles al hombro y se dirigieron a detener a los soldados cuando llegaran.
Esa misma noche, tarde, la mujer entró en labor de parto. Era su primer hijo y le resultó difícil. Pero la mujer mayor que la acompañaba tenía experiencia. Le decía qué hacer, cuándo respirar y cuándo pujar. Su hija se mantenía ocupada trayendo agua, cobijas y dándole de beber. Finalmente, el bebé llegó. La mujer mayor lo frotó con paja, limpiándolo bien.
"Es una niña", anunció, alzándola para que la nueva madre la viera. Luego, la colocó sobre el cuerpo de su madre para que estuviera cálida y cómoda. No importaba que estuvieran resguardados bajo el tronco de un árbol. Dar a luz era universal, ya fuera en casa con una partera presente o en la selva, ya fuera animal o humano. "Se llama Esperanza", anunció la nueva madre, acariciando a su hija. "Esperanza a un nuevo futuro con paz.".
El burro se había quedado quieto observando la actividad desde la abertura entre las raíces. Entró en la abertura, se acostó junto a la mujer y apoyó la cabeza en su hombro. Luego acarició suavemente al bebé.
"Está calientito. Que se quede", murmuró la mujer. Y se durmió con su hija acurrucado contra ella y el burro a su lado.
La ayudante y su hija encontraron rincones en la pequeña cabaña de raíces y se pusieron cómodas con pasto seco y una manta cada una. Todas durmieron.
Por la mañana, la cabaña estaba oscura, pero cuando la mujer y su hija subieron a la abertura, vieron el sol brillando con fuerza y sintieron el aire cálido. Sería un día espléndido. También vieron al esposo de la mujer, quien había llegado en la oscuridad y se quedó afuera vigilando la pequeña cabaña toda la noche.
La mujer lo invitó a entrar y él se acercó a su esposa y luego se inclinó sobre su nueva hija.
"¿Estás decepcionado de que sea una niña?" preguntó su esposa con ansiedad.
Su esposo reflexionó un momento. "No", dijo lentamente. " Creo que es lo mejor en estos tiempos. No la llamarán a ser soldado. Podrá tener hijos y criar una familia".
"La he estado llamando Esperanza", dijo ella. "Y llegó justo a tiempo para Navidad, así que su segundo nombre será Noelle. ¿Estás de acuerdo?"
Su marido asintió.
. Ella será nuestra esperanza, la esperanza de un futuro mejor, de paz, no de guerra. Criará hijos que puedan hacer el bien en el mundo en lugar de destruirlo todo."
Sonrió a pesar del cansancio y la acarició con ternura. «Lo hiciste bien», dijo. «Ahora, si Dios quiere, quizá la lucha pare al menos para Navidad. Algunos soldados van a la iglesia y a otros les gusta la fiesta, así que no querrán luchar hoy».
"Anoche vi una estrella", dijo. "Una estrella brillante que nunca había visto. Brillaba con tanta intensidad que pude regresar aquí sin luz y sin que nadie me viera".
Su esposa asintió. «La Estrella de Navidad. Sabía dónde la necesitaban».
A lo largo del día, la gente salió de sus escondites, pues no habían oído ningún disparo. Empezaron a reunirse en la cabaña del árbol y celebraron el nuevo nacimiento con lo que tenían para compartir. Algunas mujeres incluso trajeron tamales.
Un joven soldado de su pueblo apareció, con una amplia sonrisa en su rostro.
"El sacerdote dice que regresemos a casa", dijo. "Habrá misa y luego fiesta, pues hoy es Navidad. El pueblo está a salvo. Los soldados pasaron, pero dejaron a los ancianos solos. Y nuestros hombres los despidieron. Les dijeron que regresaran a la ciudad a festejar. Estaban más que dispuestos a hacerlo".
Así que el nuevo padre volvió a poner a su esposa y a su bebé encima del fiel burro, envueltos esta vez en muchas mantas. Todas las mujeres querían su manta para cubrir al recién nacido. Los niños corrieron delante, luego los hombres los siguieron, pero las mujeres se quedaron con la nueva madre en el burro, formando una procesión detrás de ella. "¡Feliz Navidad!", gritó una. "¡Feliz Navidad!", respondió otra. Y pronto se oyeron saludos navideños por toda la selva. Una mujer empezó a cantar "En Nombre del Cielo" y otra se unió, luego otra. Pronto estaban cantando todos los villancicos que sabían y, sin darse cuenta, habían salido de la selva y llegado a las afueras del pueblo.
Se apresuraron a la iglesia, donde los hombres, aún vestidos con sus uniformes desgastados y sucios, saludaron a sus familias con entusiasmo. Entonces el sacerdote salió e invitó a todos a entrar. Los soldados habían dejado la iglesia en paz, dijo. Excepto unos pocos que pidieron permiso para entrar a rezar. "Son gente como nosotros", dijo. "No son malvados, solo siguen al líder equivocado. Que Dios los bendiga y les enseñe un camino mejor".
"Y ahora", añadió, abriendo la gran puerta del santuario, "es hora de la Misa de Navidad. Pero primero una bendición para la niña, cuyo bautismo será más tarde. Y después de la Misa, habrá un banquete navideño". Hizo una seña a unas ancianas que estaban cerca, con sus mejores vestidos y chales. "La comida fue preparada por las ancianas que tuvieron que quedarse en casa, pero, gracias a Dios, se salvaron y salieron ilesas. ¡Demos gracias hoy!"
Hizo una seña a la nueva madre y a su hijo, que estaban junto al fiel burro. Luego, el sacerdote condujo al burro a la iglesia y lo colocó junto al pesebre . Dio una bendición al recién nacido y a sus padres, una al burro y una oración de agradecimiento por la seguridad de todos. Después, le hizo una seña al organista y comenzó la misa de Navidad.
La semana siguiente, tras las festividades navideñas, pero antes del Año Nuevo, se celebró un bautizo en la iglesia. La paz se había mantenido, los hombres llegaron sin fusiles y todo el pueblo, jóvenes y mayores, estaba allí para celebrar a la nueva llegada: Esperanza Noel.
Esperanza creció en paz, pues los líderes se habían cansado de la lucha y comenzaron a dialogar. Se formó un nuevo gobierno y, poco a poco, la vida cambió para todos. Esperanza creció hasta convertirse en una buena niña y luego en una jovencita, amable y servicial, y también muy inteligente. En lugar de casarse y tener hijos en el pueblo, se mudó a la ciudad a estudiar. Se convirtió en una excelente doctora, reconocida en todo el país. Luego se unió al gobierno, donde siempre fue una voz de paz y razón, y los hombres mayores aprendieron a respetarla y a escuchar su opinión.
¿Y el fiel burro? Fue bien cuidado y querido por su participación en el viaje navideño. Siguió viviendo con el sacerdote, pero la gente del pueblo le construyó un nuevo y espacioso corral y refugio. Estaba cómodo, pero seguía siendo modesto.  Finalmente murió, como todos los burros, y se le recordaba cada Navidad en cuentos y canciones. ¿Y su nombre? Bueno, nunca creció y se mantuvo modesto. No buscaba ser el centro de atención. Se conformaba con un buen heno y alguna que otra caricia en el lomo. Así que lo siguieron llamando "El Burrito".

photo from GGBA osprey cam  December 12, 2024. by our dear departed SailMonkey

                                               
​                                                     Solstice 2020
  
                             The days wane cold and dark upon the shore
                             Of our beloved Bay where ospreys fly.
                             I watch the sun part slowly from the sky
                             And wonder what the new year has in store.
 
                             Will this, the longest darkest night dawn bright,
                             Bring freedom from disease, from war and strife?
                             Will it set us on a new path of life?
                             Will this, the coming year dawn dark or light?
 
                            Just as the endless turning of our Earth
                            From day to night, to dark to light again,
                            From storm to calm, from drought to welcome rain,
                           An endless cycle of death and rebirth,
 
                           May our health be restored, our worries stilled
                           May we return to peace and to goodwill

                                                                                                 ​midi 2020

​On days when life demands too much of you,
Responsibilities and worries too,
So much to bear, you don’t know where to turn,
And peace and solace are for what you yearn,
 
Look to the sky, to clouds, and higher still,
To watch the birds that glide and soar at will,
That turn and dive in the gentle Spring breeze
Then stop to rest atop the tallest trees.
 
And watch them as they sit so high and free,
Content to sing their song and just to be,
They follow the wind wherever it blows,
Are ever heedless of our earthly woes.
 
Then join them if only in mind, alone,
To visit distant lands, never yet known,
And then glide gently back to Earth and land,
Ready to tackle all that waits at hand. 
 

Once upon a time, in the distant future...
 
there was a planet. It was not particularly large or prominent but it was a pretty planet, blue and green. For there was life on this planet: blue oceans teeming with fish and shellfish and many other life forms, as well as plants of all colors. There were grassy plains and high mountains covered with white snow. Even the dry deserts boasted colorful sand, creatures, large and small,  cacti and small leaved bushes, And in most parts, there lived humans, who travelled far and wide and explored to the ends of their Earth. 
But over time, the climate grew hotter and drier. Animals began to disappear. This had happened before when the large dinosaurs had died off but now the humans were involved, for better or for worse. For the humans tinkered with the environment, built cities, created new materials. And these changes transformed the Earth itself. Animal species died from lack of space, water or food. There was less water to go around.
 Soon the changes began to affect the humans themselves. While they were intelligent and ingenious, there was a limit to their understanding and they too began to suffer disease, lack of water and finally lack of food. After a massive die off over hundreds of years, only a few humans were left in pocketed areas. 
In one such area, that the most recent humans had called California, there lived small tribes in the wilderness. There was still enough food from the sturdy oaks to keep them nourished and the rain still brought welcome water to the streams and the lakes, so that these humans lived quite comfortably. Gone was all the technology their forebears had created, but this mattered not. The humans did not miss it because they had not known it. Occasionally someone would come across a small rectangular object with a glass front and would wonder what manner of object this was. It did not seem to serve any purpose but fit in the palm of a hand as though it had been a hand tool. But a tool for what?
In one area, there was a Bay surrounded by hills. There was a space between two groups of hills and over this space was a bridge that had survived earthquakes and bombs. 
One day a woman came from the Eastern hills, searching for salt and shells to use as scoops. She walked down to the edge of the Bay, where the eelgrass grew abundant and fish still darted in and out of the grass. This water had been polluted and many of the animals and plants had died off, but the tide continuously brought ocean water in and took it out again and so the sea life had been restored. As the woman walked along the shore, she became aware of another human, a man, standing atop a little hill above her. He saw her and started down the hill. 
The woman kept walking. She had work to do and needed to get it done before dark. Then she must find a place to eat and sleep before returning to her home the next day. 
She stopped when her footsteps met the water, at the old crane. It was used by humans once, and had stood there ever since, a rusting old piece of metal. Now it stood in water, as the level had risen over time. And there was an osprey nest high up on the crane. There were no more factories or ships or any other humans, but the birds still came to raise a family there. The wars and famine had not reached them. They could fly. 
The man on the hill was now by her side. He did not speak. Indeed, humans spoke only when necessary now. But his eyes were kind. He stood next to the woman, looking out over the Bay. 
The mountain the old ones had called Tamalpais, nobody really knew why, lay against the sky, still, in the shape of a woman lying down. There had been a legend, the woman had heard, but she knew it not. The mountain had been there when humans were abundant, had been there even before, when there had been a few original human inhabitants, before the hordes came. 
And even before that perhaps, before there were any humans on this land.
The mountain would remain, until it was covered by the Ocean. The crane still stood. And across the Bay, the woman could see the old bridge crossing the strait that led to the ocean. It would be inundated one day, but for now it stood, a reminder of the human industrial life of the past. 
And so too, the crane. 
The woman and man stood at the water's edge, a few feet before the crane. The rain stopped and a rainbow appeared to the South. The man pointed at the rainbow and the woman nodded. Then she pointed. Far off, they saw a large bird flying in. It flew steadily until it  reached the crane. Then it landed upon the nest high up on the crane. It was a female osprey.  She  sat and looked around. Then she  called with a  high pitched two-tone whistle. Then another. And from the Bay, beyond the breakwater, came another osprey. It flew steadily toward the nest, while the other called. Then it landed and the two birds greeted one another.
The woman turned to the man and smiled. 
"The ospreys have returned," she said. "As always."
He nodded. "Yes." 
They paid silent homage to these birds that had survived the wars, the floods, the famine and  all the destruction caused by humans, by flying South every winter to return in the Spring. 
Then the two humans gave thanks to their Earth goddess and, as the sun began to set,  turned for their long trek back to the hills where they dwelled. 

                                                                   Star of Peace
 
Some  children were drawing and coloring. But more were sitting with their heads down or just staring into space. A few were crying quietly. 
The teachers stood watching the children. What should they do? Let them be or try to entertain them somehow? 
They children had, of course, been fed and cleaned up first when they arrived. Their clothes were dirty and torn, their faces streaked with dirty tears, some even had blood stains on their hands, the shirts, their heads. They had been tended to and cleaned up, while the seriously injured had been transported to the hospital. These children at the school were the “lucky” ones, who had escaped injury. Most had arrived with their parents who were now being given spaces to make their own, a tiny makeshift home in this place of peace amid the war. The teachers had taken the older  children to the playroom so the parents would have time and quiet to settle into their quarters. 
The teachers watched and talked quietly among themselves. How could they best soothe the children, help them ignore what was going on outside the school’s doors, help them go back to being children for a little while? The circumstances of this war were such that the children came from many different lands of different languages and customs, with little in common. All were strangers in this land. 
But they were children after all. And children all share many things in common, one teacher said. They like to play, they like to sing, they run and shout. And they like to draw, another added. That’s it, let’s give them paper and let them draw.
So the teachers put papers on the tables and put crayons on some tables and paint on others. They went over to the children and quietly, gently suggested they come to the tables. A few did so. Then a few more came when they saw what the others were doing. Soon most of the children were drawing. Some just scribbled, others drew standard flowers and trees and stick figures, and  still others drew images of war, the war they knew only too well. 
Then something new happened. One child looked at another’s drawing of a flower and in his language, said, “That’s a pretty flower.” And he drew one too. Another child drew a family then turned to the teacher and pointing to each figure, gave their name. The teacher repeated each name after the child.  Another child furtively looked at her neighbor’s picture and began to copy it. The other child saw this and moved his paper closer so the other child could see better. She smiled at him. 
Then it was time to stop so the children could go to their parents and be served dinner. A few children had no family there. One girl spoke to her mother and father then  gestured to a boy that he should join her family. The boy smiled and nodded and the girl took his hand. 
The teachers cleaned up the tables then hung the children’s  art work on the wall. 
The art time went on for the next few days. The teachers added outside activities such as soccer. It seemed that kids all over the world knew how to play soccer. Now they began to open up and use their voices, communicating any way they knew how. Some girls began to play jacks with stones. It appeared that all knew the game in one form or another. 
But it was the art that brought out the deep emotions in these war-scarred children. More and more pictures were of buildings being bombed, drones and airplanes, rubble, people without arms or legs. And blood.  Oh so much blood that the red crayons were worn to stubs. The teachers wondered what to do about this. They knew the children needed to draw these things to work out their emotions but they also wanted to lead them to a more positive view, to promote healing. 
One day, a girl drew a flag of her nation, with a blue star in the middle. The boy next to her pointed and said, “star” in his language. Then he drew the flag of his nation, with a yellow star on a red background. Another child saw this and drew his country’s flag, also with a star, but a green one.  This school for refugees, where all were right now, was a school run by the United Nations. The teachers too, were from many different countries. They were also teachers. They knew that children love flags for their colors and designs. Most of the children at the art table were too young to know the political meanings of their country’s flag. But all were soon noticing the stars on many of the flags. 
One teacher had an idea. What does a star represent, she asked the other teachers. Peace, answered one. Hope, said another. Freedom. Light. Yes, light, the light of freedom, of the people, of a nation at peace. 
And now the teachers had an idea. Here was something concrete these children had in common. And tomorrow was the Winter Solstice, which would occur  in the heavens all over their hemisphere, over half of the Earth, while the other half experienced the Summer Solstice. An event observed and celebrated by people since ancient times, one many cultures and religions had  adopted and turned into a holiday of light. Tomorrow, they too, would celebrate this event that all would have in common, no matter the difference in their language, their culture, their religion. 
So the next day, the teachers called all the children together into the large courtyard. They invited the adults to join in as well.  They put out chalk of many colors and told all to draw a star, one that represented their hopes,  a brighter future, their dreams. Everyone worked with intense concentration. Many even ignored the sounds of renewed bombing, so intent were they on their creations. They were well used to the sound by now.  And when the teachers called time, all stood up and stepped back. A parent took her child’s hand. That child took the hand of the child next to him. Who took the hand of a man he had never seen before. The man smiled at him. He knew the child was from the other side, but this was a child, not an enemy. Soon all the people in the circle were holding hands.
One of the teachers started singing a song of peace, a song she knew from her culture but that was a tune known by many. The people in the circle joined in. It was a simple song, with repeated words and a simple melody and soon almost all were singing it as well. 
Up in the sky, the clouds parted. The moon had not yet risen. And up in that dark expanse of space, the stars began to appear. One star, in particular, shone brightly. All looked up, watched the star and fell silent. 
For some reason, the sound of bombshells stopped just then as well. 
And for a moment, just a moment, peace reigned in this little space, this haven, this war torn region. 
And now, in the middle of their circle, a couple of the nurses and doctors knelt down to draw. One outlined a very large star. Another drew a star atop it at a slight angle. Then a child’s father knelt down and drew another large star in a different color. One by one, the adults knelt down to draw another star atop the first ones. Until they had one large star with a multitude of points and in every color of any flag. This was their star. A doctor and a nurse, tired as they were from the day’s duties, stepped into the center of the star. The doctor spoke:
“This is our star, not the star of just one nation but the star of all nations, all people on Earth. Let it be called the Star of Peace.”
The people didn’t cheer. Instead the children stared in wonder while the adults bowed their heads and each in their own way lifted up prayers that  the world might know peace again and offered thanks to this place of peace, where all were welcomed and cared for, no matter their religion, beliefs or nationality. Then all watched in silence as the Peace Star  glittered and glowed in the setting Winter Solstice sun.  And after the sun set, they continued to watch as the brightest star appeared In the sky, shining its bright light upon them all. The Star of Peace.
 
​MW
December 2023

​                                                      The Solstice Doves

 
Once there was a woman who lived alone in a small cottage in the woods with her little dog. She was quite content with her life. Although she was a loner, occasionally she was lonely and wished for human companionship. For while the dog was a dear companion, she did not speak and so the woman had little conversation. 
One evening the woman fell and hurt her arm. It was not a serious injury, but it needed medical attention. What should she do? Should she just bear the pain or should she find a way to the doctor?  But the doctor was in the city, a long way from her little cottage. And she did not think she could drive her little donkey cart that far. 
As the woman sat, trying to think through the pain, she saw a bright star in the darkening  sky. One she had never seen before. Then to her wonder, the star’s points broke apart and began to fall towards Earth. Had the star exploded? Would it engulf the Earth?
The woman and the dog went outdoors and watched in wonder as the points of the star turned into white doves that fluttered down to them. The doves flew around them then  settled on the woman’s  head, her hand, and at her feet, cooing among themselves. 
One dove flew up and was now a shimmering white angel. 
“Come, “ she said to the hurt woman. “Come inside and I will tend to you.”
And she did. She got the woman into a chair, brought her water, and  bandaged her wound. Then she played soothing music on a lyre until the woman fell asleep. 
The next morning, the woman awakened, with the dog at her side. She felt better and wondered if it had all been a dream. But no. The moment she turned on her side, her arm wrenched  and she called out in pain. And there was the angel standing in the doorway.
“I will help you,” the angel said. “Stay right there.” And the angel set out clothing and helped the woman wash and get dressed. 
When they went into the other room, there sat two other angels. One said to the first angel, “I will go get food.” The third angel bustled around the house, cleaning and tending to the chores. 
And so it went. The woman could rest and walk around the house, while the angels did all the work. The first angel received a call from Heaven to go help elsewhere. But meanwhile, the third, fourth and fifth points of the star had materialized and each one did her part. Two took  the woman wherever she needed to go, the second angel continued to provide food, and the fifth helped her with any heavy lifting she needed done. Whenever the angels had finished helping, they would turn into doves and fly in the sky or perch on the tall pines. 
With all this help, the woman healed quickly. Soon she was able to dress herself. Then she began to prepare her own meals. And finally one day, she tried driving her donkey cart.
As the woman  became more independent, the angels became doves more and more often, letting the woman tend to herself. But they still checked in with her and helped as needed, as well as providing comfort and solace. 
Soon it was the time of Winter Solstice. The angels told the woman that it was time for them to go perform their celestial duties. So they all went out into the dark night. The woman watched as one by one,  the angels turned back into doves and flew high in the sky towards the North Star. 
As she watched, she heard them sing, “Good bye. We will be here if you ever need us and we will come to visit once in a while just to see you and the dog. Watch for white doves.”
The woman was so happy.  She not only was healing and had received the help she needed, but now she knew that the angel-doves would always be there for her. She turned to her dog. “I think we made some friends.” The dog wagged her tail in agreement. 
The woman and her dog went into their little house and the woman lit a Solstice candle In the dark. And ever after, on the Solstice the doves would come to the little house to pay a visit and celebrate with the woman and her dog. 
 
                                                                                                    midi
                                                                                                Solstice 2023
 
                              With many thanks to my doves, who helped in so many ways