Restless Sunday
 
Loud whine announces the chainsaw.
The tree is coming down today. 
Crack of branch breaking 
Then crashing fall.
Ear splitting grinding
To dust. 
Then silence.
Dust does not speak. 

         Feeling sad today,
         Sad for me, sad for you,
         Sad for neighbors who 
         Insist on their way 
         Sad for hardscape 
         Valued over landscape.
         Sad for a loved tree, 
         That is no more to be.
         Ground into dust as will
         You and I
         By and by.  

​How does it feel
To hear the tree--
The very one you planted
Fifty years ago,
Watched grow,
Laughed at the baby squirrels
Scampering among its branches,
Listened to the screeching jay,
Enjoyed the shade and privacy
It provided--
How does it feel, I ask,
To hear it sawed, screaming
To the ground,
To hear its branches
Crack and fall,
Until only a silent
stump remains--
How does it feel?
And who cares?
But you and I?

Tree Felling 
                                                 
Saw whines then put-puts to a stop
Branch crackles, clunks as it falls
Grinder motors up, growling
Grates and grinds the wood.
Then chuck-chunk as it ends. 
Birds are silent.
 
 
 
Monterey Pine
 
 The tree housed 
 Squirrels who argued 
Noisily with the jays.
Songbirds eating insects
An occasional hawk. 
Where will they 
Go now?

        Satisfied Neighbor 
 
 I now can clearly see
The space that house a tree.
The tree that blocked my
Legal right to a view.
Caused me many a sigh.

Oh no, they now can see
My kitchen, son and me.
I guess I'll have to find,
To cut off their new view,
​A brand new window blind. 

The Old Man's Lament

The tree is cut.
Down to a stump.
Its sawdust hauled
To the dump.
The tree I planted
With my own hands
Fifty years ago
On my own land.

 I sit hunched
In a sunny spot
On the Persian rug
Lost in thought.
Why must it be so?
I think and I try
To understand but
​I can only cry. 

                        Last Tree Standing
 
          The old man looks for his pine tree                                         
         From the raw stump averts his eyes                          
          But looks down the steep slope to see                                  
          A tall thin tree, and then he sighs.                                         
 
          And he says, I planted that fir.            
          As I did all the others too.
          And I remember as they were
          I planted and watched as they grew.
 
          This tall tree is the last to stand,
          Still growing, reaching for the sky.         
          I too, stand alone on my land,
          As I await my time to die.

          Cut down, together we will go      
          Will fall to the ground, you and I. 
          But from your sawdust and my ash ,   
          Our spirits will rise to the sky.          
 
          And may we both find in new skies,
          In the beyond, another place
         Where spirits with souls grown wise             
          Reside in peace, goodwill and grace.
 

all poems above are by MW
all photos by MW

             

​             The Living Christmas Tree
 
The family decided to buy a living Christmas tree this year. The father, mother and three children went to the nursery instead of a tree farm and picked out a pine with spreading branches. It didn’t really look like a Christmas tree but it was suited to the area’s climate. 
They brought it home, lugged it inside and decorated it. The father made sure it was watered properly over the next few weeks. He had ideas for this tree.
When Christmas was over, this tree was not discarded. Its decorations were removed and it was put outside. There it grew through the winter and Spring and then Fall. In December it was again brought inside. It was not too big for that yet. And the next year as well. 
But the third year, the father tried to lift the tree and proclaimed, “This tree is too big to bring inside this year. It is too heavy for me to lift and its branches are too broad to fit in the corner.”
“Then we will have to get rid of it and buy a cut tree this year,” his wife said.
“A cut tree, yes, but we will not throw out this one. It can stay outside.”
They bought a cut tree and decorated it. But the father took a strand of lights and put them on the tree outside. He had grown fond of that tree. He put a silver star atop it. 
Every year after that, the man decorated the outside tree by himself each Christmas. Then one year, he decided it was too big to be in a pot. So he took it out and planted it in one corner of the garden. It was now in an out of way spot and couldn’t be seen from the house but he still decorated it. And as it grew, he continued to decorate it. Soon, he had to use a ladder, then the ladder became too short and the man hired a company to string the lights and put up the star. Neighbors began to remark upon the beautiful Christmas tree. And they even began to notice it in the off season, chatting with the father about the tree and the animals it housed. People from down the hill and even across the Bay could see it and an article appeared in the local newspaper. The tree was famous.
But there was one person who did not like the tree. The neighbor to the side. As the tree had grown, it began to block her kitchen window. She especially disliked it at Christmas when she had to look at the lights. She began to brood. She asked the family to cut out a few branches so she could would get more light into her kitchen. They did so reluctantly. Then she asked them to cut a few more branches so she could see her view.  View of what, they wondered, but they complied.  Each year, she asked for more branches to be cut. The children grew and left home. The mother died and only the dog kept the man company. He found himself a companion and now they were a threesome. 
That year, the neighbor  said, “It is not enough to cut a branch here and there. I need my view and my sun.  It is my right. That tree must go.”
The father said no. The neighbor insisted and spoke to the son. “If you don’t comply, I will have to sue you,” she said. “Look at the roots. They are growing under my steps.”
The son, who was now in charge, agreed. He did not want to be sued. He told his father, who said no. That was his tree, that he had planted, with all the memories of Christmasses past. 
But the son went ahead anyway. He hired a company and one day, he informed his father that the tree would be cut the next day.
The man was awakened the next morning by the whine of saws. A crash of a major branch. Then the shuddering grind of the wood chipper.  He did not go out to look. Instead he found a patch of sunlight on the rug and sat in the patch, warming himself. He sat there a long time, rubbing his head, lost in thought and memory. His dog came to lie beside him. His companion sat with him as well. Finally, when all was quiet, she ventured outside. The men were just finishing their work She spoke a silent good-by to the tree, now just a stump, and picked up a branch with pinecones attached. She went inside to the old man and sat beside him and the dog on the rug in the sun. 
When Christmas rolled around, the companion took the branch, tied a bow around it, added some lights and placed it on the table. 
She placed two wrapped packages beside it.
“Our Christmas tree,” she told the old man.
He smiled wanly. But on Christmas Eve,  she noticed him touching the pinecone and fingering the lingering moss. She went over to him. “Merry Christmas,” she said, kissing the top of his head. And the man, the woman and the dog sat in companionable silence on the sofa, the lights of the branch twinkling before them.
 
MW 11/21

Píccola says:I do not look up. I content myself with what is at hand. The grass is mine, not the trees.

Autumn
 
The dusk falls early this October night,
While we eat supper in dwindling daylight
Nary a sound of evening  to be heard,
No cricket voices, not even a bird.
Asleep, all, for this short day is now done.
They live not by the clock, but by the sun.
 
 
This morning, I slept late, I did not see
The ray of sun that would awaken me.
No summer morning fog, the sky is clear,
A fresh cool breeze whispers around my ear
It brings soft  words that give me renewed  hope,
Give courage, strength, and willingness to cope.
 
A peaceful season filled with  hope and cheer,
May Autumn usher in a bright new  year

​-MW

Píccola says: On cold Autumn mornings, I would rather just stay in bed. But my humans make me go outside to poop and pee and then I get my feet wet. 

Large round harvest moon
Glows orange in the black night sky
Ushers in Autumn
 
Round blood moon rising
Fills black night sky with orange light
Promise or omen?
 
Soft cool breezes blow
Toss dry tree leaves to the ground
Fall cedes to winter
 
Song bird melodies
Hush to let in harsh caws, squawks
Music has fled south.

​-MW

​Autumn Equinox

Dark settles early today
We had supper at dusk,
Had to turn on the lights.
 
All is quiet, the birds 
Settle for the dark
Night to come.
 
I slept late this morning,
But dawn had just broken.
Sky was clear, no fog, cool air.
 
I felt a sense of peace…and hope.
Autumn always brings this to me. 
Why, when it is the end of season?
 
But wait! Here rain brings renewal,
Greening grass springs up, 
Thirsty garden gratefully drinks.
 
Hope springs in my heart, 
A new season, a new beginning
Without sickness, without hate.

​-MW

Hope and Resilience 

Consider the migrant,
Huddled with their family
In a long line of like
Seekers of a new home.
 
Trudge along miles and miles,
Through unfamiliar land, 
Towns with strangers staring,
Changing landscapes, weather.
 
Board bus, train or a plane
With their one small bundle,
All else left behind. 
Perhaps one small treasure.
 
Day after day, travelling,
Towards an unknown land,
People, language changing,
Everything looks different. 
 
Nothing will be the same.
But they still come forward,
Though anxious and afraid,
Always looking ahead
 
To their destination, 
Hope for a new home, free
Of famine, danger, strife,
A bright new hope-filled life. 

​-MW

​Resilience

Consider the ospreys.
Who return to the Bay
Each season, without fail.
 
Restore the nest, bring
Sticks for rails, soft grass
To line the nest cup.
 
Mate, lay eggs, watch
Chicks hatch, gently tend
The bobbleheads.
 
Feed them, keep them warm, 
Then pull back, let them 
Feed themselves, walk around.
 
Exercise their wings, 
Hover, fight a bit, 
More able each day.
 
Then stay near when they fledge,,
Show them how to fly,
To land and to fish. 
 
Let them fly away,
Equanimity, 
No tear-filled good-byes.
 
Rest for the Winter,
Start over again,
The following season. 
 
No tears, no sighs,
They accept
 Life’s course. 
 
​

Advice

Whenever you are in despair
Look around to see who is there.
Look ahead  far down the way,
Step into a bright new day.
 
Just take the first step, only one.
For although you are now alone,
You will find, some bright new day
Another like you on your way.  
 
And then together, for a while,
You two will talk, and laugh, and smile,
Then start off on your way again, 
To travel aboard life’s lone train. 

-​MW

            Summer Vacation  

The chairs are stacked, the books all stowed, the floor           
Swept clean of all debris. Students are gone,
In a confusion of good byes.   Alone
She takes a last look back then shuts the door.
 
A week to rest, recoup her energy             
Perhaps in quiet reflection just sit
Or go out in the garden, weed a bit
 Lie on a mat, read under a tree.
 
And then she has two workshops she must take                   
Has lessons, activities to plan too,
Standards to meet with lessons fun to do,  
And last, a fun-filled weekend at the lake.

In early August, Autumn will draw near.
A list of last things to do she will make
And at the crack of dawn she will awake,
All ready to start a brand new school year.
​
​-MW

​Summer is…                                                    
 
Long days in the sun
Running through sprinklers
Swimming in the pool]
Eating popsicles, 
While riding your bike
By the empty school.
 
Summer of freedom
Spending time with friends
Working  summer job
Or lounging about,
Moments of quiet
Before your new path.
 
 A break from routine,
 Time with family,
Outings with the kids:
Zoo, merry-go-round.
No evening homework.
 
Long twilight evenings 
Sitting on the porch 
 Quietly talking
Watching  children play,
Remembering days past
Of your own childhood
 
…is Summer

​-MW

The last chick fledged, the pair sits on the nest
 Quietly watching out over the Bay.
They now have time to sit, to watch, to rest,
To spend time by themselves resting  each day
 
The fledglings fly, soaring over the Bay
To fish, find friends, whatever they may wish,
Learn as they roost each night and fly each day,,                                     
And visit the nest when they want a fish
 
Until one Autumn day they come no more.
Soon after Rosie too, takes to the sky.
Alone, Richie flies to the reservoir,
While the others to Southern beaches fly.
 
And thus the season ends, while in the West
Dockside, there sits an empty osprey nest.

​-MW

                 Summer in Ontario

 A Passing Summer Storm

Low-floating, moist-laden billowing clouds
Above a landscape thirsting for moisture.
All is hope and expectation.
People and plants stare and wait.

Thunder follows flashes of lightning.
A sudden wind begins to blow,
A downpour follows in its wake,
A sigh of relief wells and spreads.

Flashes and rumble quickly subside,
The rush of wind becomes a whisper,
The darkened sky now gradually lightens
And the rain sings its pitter-patter.

Hours of soothing steady raindrops
Leave the landscape quenched and fresh,
Leave human beings relieved and thankful,
Assured that all's well with the world.

​JM

​

                Taking Wing
 
            Do not be afraid to fly
            Do not hesitate to try.
            You can return to the nest
            When you’re tired and need a rest.
 
            Be sure to leave with a spring 
            In your step as you take wing,
            Your family will all be there,
           Your accomplishments to share.                     
 
            The new will be challenging
            As you learn to use your wings,
            Be confident you will meet
            Each head-on, without defeat.
 .                                               
            You now have time to explore                       
            To see what life has in store.
            Look to see what interests you,
            Stay a while or fly on through.
 
            On your flight be bold and strong.
            Though the journey may be long,
            You’ll not likely go astray.
            If you do, adjust your way.
                                                             
            So now, take the step, fledgling
            Leap into the sky, take wing,
            Fly high over our blue Bay
            To start out on your new way.  

​                                                           -MW
 

Crack in the sidewalk.
Poking through concrete, despite
White alyssum blooms.

In tall sea of grass
Toy tugboat sits forgotten
In wrong element.

Who gets to decide,
Is it a plant or a weed?
​It looks nice; it stays.

 



​
Large sunflower head
Bends down to creatures below,
Bestowing its light. 

​Bright yellow lemons
Heralds of a new season
Spring has finally come. 

​Oak sapling pulled up
Discarded at start of life
No longer to grow.

Warmed by indoor light
The bean plants grow avidly,
​Soon to go outside.

Plants all in the ground,
The garden is ready now.
Harvest will arrive.

Sowed carrots today
Sprinkled seeds into warm soil.
Now I sit and wait. 
​

​Mockingbird on wire
Breaks into gay, happy song.
​Singing Spring is here!

​Garden reverie
I sit and think of nothing
​Enjoy the moment. 


Whine of a chainsaw
Cuts sharply into my brain.
Breaks my reverie. 

The Garden
 
Once a young woman planted a garden. She purchased seeds and put them in the soil and watched them grow. Soon she learned that the seeds needed water to grow. So every day, she gave them all a bit of water. Some needed more and some less, but all wanted regular watering. 
The seeds grew into plants then bloomed. The woman enjoyed the colorful display. Eventually, the flowers wilted and the plants died back. The woman pulled them out but she carefully saved seeds from her favorite flowers to plant again the next season.. A few plants did not die back. They bloomed and stayed green through the seasons. Those the woman let be. They would be her forever flowers. The next year, the woman planted the seeds she had saved. Soon she had more of the flowers she had enjoyed the most the last season. 
And so it went from season to season. There were years when the garden grew well and the woman was happy. She would sit for long hours in her garden, enjoying her plant friends. Other years were not so happy, when a plant would die or the bloom was not as full as before. Then the woman felt lonely but she still tended the flowers that were there. Sometimes the woman would become too busy or distracted and didn’t tend her flowers as well Then some would wilt and die. Other years, a new seed would sprout by itself and the woman would have a new plant friend. If she liked it, she would save the seed to keep for the next season.
The woman enjoyed her garden for many years. But one day, she had to move.  The woman was sad to leave her garden, where she had spent many a happy hour. But she had no choice. So she took some of her favorite seeds and said good-by to the other plants. She was especially sad to leave the forever flowers behind.  Her new place was much smaller and she could not have all the flowers she had before. 
When she moved into her new home, the woman planted a few of her favorite seeds. In the Spring, she was glad to see them grow and bloom. Her friends were back! The next Autumn, the woman found a bush growing in the corner of the garden, full of beautiful purple blossoms. And the woman knew she had found a new  forever plant friend. 
The woman  spent many happy hours in this new garden, tending the flowers she had planted and paying special attention to the new bush. She was rewarded with beautiful flowers not only in the Spring but also in the Autumn. And the woman was content. 

​-MW

Springtime has come, Where has it come?
In the mountains, in the village, in the fields it's come. 
Birds are singing, Where do they sing?....
Flowers are blooming, Where do they bloom?

(corrections are welcome on the Japanese lyrics and/or the translation. I use the Raffi version.)

The Garden Song written and sung by David Mallett. Midi loved singing this with her students. 

I love to go out to explore
And see what the garden has in store.
Dig futilely in a gopher hole
Or follow the tunnel of a mole. 

Such is Life

New leaves sprout and grow,
Spent leaves wither and fall.
A constant becoming.
A constant being. 
Spent leaves wither and fall,
New leaves sprout and grow.
Such is life!


Splendor and Poignance

Magnolia blossoms pink and white,
Feast for eager smell and sight,
Life in all its brilliant splendor!

Magnolia petals limp and blown,
Pain for mind, not heart alone,
Death in all its poignant presence!


Facts of Life

Fish that are not hooked
Are fish that spawn and swarm.

Trees that are not cut
Are trees that grow and seed.

Game that is not shot
Is game that lives and thrives.

Such are the facts of life,
Such are the facts ignored!

-JM

Humans may use a tree for their own advantage, such as to provide shade or perhaps for a swing. A child has fun swinging after a long day on Zoom School. Or an adult spends a few precious moments alone on the swing in silent meditation. And the tree has not been harmed. 

​Humans grow trees and this is good. They plant them to reforest bare areas, to provide wind breaks to keep the soil from blowing away, to plant in city parks and private gardens. These trees provide shade, clean air, and enjoyment. Trees are grown and cut for use as Christmas trees.Yes, the trees are cut, then discarded, but their wood provides mulch and new trees are planted in their stead. Instead of a bare plot of land, there is a miniature human made forest. And when the trees are transported to the city, for a few weeks there is a previously bare lot covered with trees and smelling of the forest, providing a magical place for families to visit and pick out their tree. 

​What is a tree?

A plant grown tall
Provides shade for usl.
A home, food, safety
Where deer, squirrel, turkey
Rest in comfort and peace.
Gives life to us all.
 

​Pine tree, once
Grew taller
Than the house
A-spirrf to the sky
But ,without a voice,
Is now gone.
Bereft, bare
Stump is left.

Spring morning walk
Alone, silence...
Then I turn the corner.
Chirps, whistles fill my ears.
Waking birds welcome dawn,
Greeting one another. 
But why here and not there?
I look around and see
Towering trees, redwoods
Obscuring the houses.
Listening, watching, 
​I am at peace.

​​A sad day when sterile 
Hard concrete trumps Nature’s 
Leafy, cool shade and
Bird sanctuary. 

​​Once….
Horsetails grew
All over here,
Lining creek beds.
 
Relic from
The Age of Dinosaurs,
 
A favorite of mine.
I liked to play with it,
Pulling off the sections
And fitting them back.
 
But I stopped.
Older, wiser,
I didn’t want
To harm the plant. 
 
One day a family
Moved onto the land,
Built a large, fancy house,
With the finest materials.
 

​But…
 
They razed the dinosaur
Placed stones over the soil
Planted exotic flowers
In large earthenware pots
.
 
Then….
 
One hardy horsetail
Poked its head 
Through the granite
 
It had survived
For millions of years
This latest assault
Was but a blip.
 
And…
 
It would still be alive
Long after 
The humans
Were gone.

​The Man and his Trees
 
Once there was a young man who set out from his family home, his heart full of hope and joy. He loved life and was ready to meet it head-on. He travelled and studied then  found a job where he could teach and continue his studies. Life was good.
The man found a nice plot of land nearby. He cleared it of its weeds and built a fine house on the hill overlooking the Bay. Then he set about finding a woman with whom to share the house. With a job, a house, a wife and a child on the way, the man was very busy. But he spent time making a garden as well. First he planted a vegetable garden and fruit trees. Then he set about planting trees along the perimeter of his property  that would provide shelter, privacy and shade and would hold the soil in place. 
The man was proud of his trees and rejoiced as they grew quickly. There were many kinds, both native to the area and those he knew from childhood. His favorite was the maple which leafed out every Spring with large dark red leaves. 
The trees grew as the man worked hard at his profession, Despite infighting in his department,  he prospered in his work and  finally one day published a mighty tome. But he had grown bitter towards the world. His soul was now filled with disappointment in humanity. 
The trees were now mature and he rejoiced in them. But soon the neighbors began to complain. The trees were too tall, they were blocking their view. Just take out this one, the neighbor to the right said. Just take out that one, the neighbor to the left said. Finally one day the man called the neighbors together.
“You have each told me just to take out one or two trees,” he said. “And you say that is not too much to ask. But if I take out the trees each of you says, I will have none left.”

​The neighbors left and the man took out no trees. But new neighbors moved in with new demands. Then the city that had grown up around the man’s house began to talk of fire danger. A few trees grew old and had to be taken down. Little by little, the trees went. First those in the back, then those to the South. The sun now shone relentlessly on the roof of the house. The wind blew without any trees to slow its course. The birds and squirrels grew fewer. And the man grew more embittered.
Finally, there was one tree left on the South side. The man loved that tree. But the neighbor only saw the needles it dropped and the roots that grew under her concrete steps. She insisted it be taken down. The man said no. But his son, who now owned the house, said yes. 
Meanwhile, the neighborhood was filled with the sounds of saws. Everywhere, people were cutting their trees, for one reason or another. The area became more and more bare. The birds became more scarce. 
One day the man heard a saw. He asked his companion who was trimming trees that day. She quietly informed him that it was his own tree that would be cut down that day. The man stared at her in horror. “No!” he shouted. “They can’t! I won’t allow it!” But he had no choice. The tree cutters were there. They had been hired by his son; he could do nothing about it. The man went inside and shut himself in his study and wouldn’t come out.  He ate neither lunch nor supper that day. Finally he crawled into bed without speaking to anyone and fell into a troubled sleep.
The next morning, the man went outside first thing. He sat in his favorite lawn chair and looked out to the South. There was no tree. There were no birds, no squirrel. His companion came to sit beside him. And the man put his head in his arms and wept. Wept for the loss of his trees and the loss of his boyhood dreams.  

​The Woman and her Oak Tree
 
Once a young woman moved into a little house. She thought about getting a dog or a bird as a companion, but she worked long hours and didn’t want to leave a pet alone. There was a small oak sapling in the woman’s yard. She decided to leave it. “Let grow what wills to grow,” she said. And grew it did. As the oak grew, a scrub jay came to sit on its branches. Every morning, the jay would tap on the window and ask the woman to give it a peanut. Soon a squirrel joined the bird.  It sat on an oak branch outside the study window and wagged its tail at the woman. She would get up from her desk and find a peanut for the squirrel. Now she had two pets.
Soon there were even more animals. These were more shy but the woman still loved their quiet presence. The oak tree was now tall and filled with leafy branches. And it was bearing acorns. A buck would come to sleep under its canopy. Then a doe and her fawns came to browse for acorns. A crowd of turkeys would wander up the walk for a drink of water and scratch the ground for acorns. Various small birds visited the tree for insects. The woman enjoyed watching them all. She felt she was in good company and their quiet presence helped her concentrate on her work. 

​But there was one animal that didn’t like the oak tree. That was the human who lived behind the woman. The oak tree was ruining his view, he said. So the woman obligingly cut out a window in the  foliage so the neighbor would have a view. She made sure she did it in the season when there were no acorns or nests in the tree. The next year the neighbor complained again. The foliage had grown back. Of course, the woman told him. If you cut a tree, it will grow back even stronger. He pushed and prodded and again she cut some more foliage and this time, at his insistence, she cut some larger branches. He still was not happy. She hired the arborist he chose and he seemed happy for a year, but the following year he said more branches must go. Meanwhile, there had been little rain and the oak tree was looking stressed. The woman worried about it. It’s only a tree, people told her. You can always replace it with something more suitable to city life. And your neighbor has a right to his view. It makes his property so much more valuable when he sells it. The neighbor kept insisting and the woman hired a top arborist who trimmed the tree heavily but kept it intact. 
There was now little shade to keep the woman’s study cool and the weeds, before suppressed by the oak’s large canopy,  began to sprout. The deer came less often. There were fewer birds. And the neighbor was still unhappy. He insisted that three main trunks should be cut so he would have a view of the entire Bay. I can see the bridge now, he said, but I also want to see the island, that little one too, and the oil tanks on the hill. I like to look at them all. Then he added, I hope we can still be friends. 

​At this point, the woman lost patience. She had paid a lot of money over the years to appease this neighbor, she had felt guilty for taking away his view, she had trimmed the tree every two years, letting him tell the arborist what he wanted. And in return, she was losing her animal companions and her shade. She might even lose her beloved oak tree, which she loved more than her house. They were her friends, not the neighbor, who did nothing for her. She had said nothing when his dog barked all day and night, she had not complained when his outdoor light awakened her at 5am every morning, she had not complained about the acacia tree that caused her such misery during the allergy season. She believed in live and let live. But he obviously did not. So the woman decided that she would no longer listen and would let the oak tree be. For the oak tree asked nothing of her but to be let to live. And in return, it gave her so much. 

​But the neighbor kept insisting every year and finally, he hired a lawyer. The woman had no money nor energy to fight. She moved to a small apartment where she had no garden, no tree, no animal pets. Every morning, she would awaken and go into the kitchen, where she would make a cup of tea. As she sipped the tea, she would stare at the blank wall of the apartment next door and paint a picture in her mind of her beloved oak, with its birds and squirrels and deer. Then she would sigh. 
One day, she walked by her old house. The oak tree was gone. She walked up the hill to the house behind her. There was a for sale sign and over it was a large word SOLD. She saw her former neighbor talking to the realtor. 
“That was a great sale. Thanks! I’m glad you convinced those people to cut down their tree. It cost me a thousand dollars but I made $100,000 more in the sale. And now the new people have an unsurpassed view. And there are no more pesky squirrels or birds around either.”
“And does your new place have a view?” the realtor asked.
“Oh, no. It doesn’t matter. We don’t look out our window much anyway. It was really about the money. We knew we were going to sell soon and we wanted top price for our house. Fair trade, no? A weed of a tree in exchange for 100,000 dollars. I never understood why that woman couldn’t see that.”
The woman shook her head and headed back down the hill. On the way home, she stopped at the art store on the corner and bought a box of colored pencils. When she got to her little apartment, she sat in the kitchen and tried to sketch the oak tree she had loved so much, and all the animals who had come to partake of its treasures. She tried to sketch a memory.

A New Year Dawns

Sunset

People on the street gazing
At not so spectacular
Sunset. But then I realize:
It is the last setting sun
Of this long, pandemic year.

Night

Buildings sparkle
Into black night
Their soft light glow
Reflects upon
Dark Bay water.
This last midnight
A long, dark year.
May tomorrow
Dawn unsombered
Bright to blue sky.

Dawn

The sun rises in the East
And it is day once again.
By the calendar at least,
Dawns a new year,
​And we hope.....

Osprey Season

Eager eyes scan the skies
For outstretched osprey wings
Straight flying arrows. Then
Rosie lands, stands on nest
Looking around, waiting
Patiently for her mate
To arrive. And the new
​Osprey season begins. 

Inauguration Day

Dancing throng in the street
Joyful, sings gladly
For the new president
And home-grown VP,
Represent hope, promise,
A new beginning.

And yet-

How much will really change?
Will they do battle 
Against entrenched interests,
Divisions unhealed?

Are there not raging floods,
Homeless in tarp tents,
Children alone at the border?
War and poverty?

Will they tackle issues
Brave, successfully?
We can just hope and pray
​We'll see better days. 

Spring Equinox

Today, in Earth's revolution,
Day-night are equal. Neither rules.
Reflect. Time to be equable
Like the ospreys. Calm reflection.
Curb expectations for what comes,
Temper hope. And wait.



Green Hills

Hills are velvety green
Yellow daffodils bloom
Pink fragile plum blossoms
Tender white trillium
Sky is blue, clouds white
Air is cool, breezy
But the sun is warm
​And we welcome Spring.

Bird Song

​Owl hoots
Robin cheery-ups
Finch peeps.
Mockingbird sings
a symphony.
Chirps, whistles,
​ melodies.
I turn off my eyes 
And tune my ears.

Wisdom from Píccola
I know nought about the outside world and human society's ills. I only know my house and my humans, who provide warmth, comfort and love. 
​


​

​A gentle smile,
A burst of laughter,
A kind word,
A wagging tail,
A rub and purr,
A cheery chirp,
A galloping horse,
A frisky calf,
A child at play,
Are cause for joy.
Good cause for thanks!


Empathy should not be a luxury.

A society is what its members are.

Egoism is Nature, altruism is culture.

​Gloom paralyzes, hope energizes.
​
​

​Welcome, Rosie

Welcome back, our Rosie,
Welcome back today.
We are glad to see you
Our favorite osprey.
 
Did you have a good time
Down in Southern clime
Did you like to be  alone
Live there on your own?
 
Now it’s time to get busy,
Find Richie and mate,
Gather sticks and eel grass
Start to nestorate.
 
Lay some eggs, one, two, three
For us all to see.
We will watch day and night,
Til dawn’s early light.
 
Chicks will hatch and will grow
Keeping us on edge,
Til the day that fully grown
They decide to fledge.
 
Then the skies we will scan
For their bright blue bands,
Til the day that you and they
Fly down South to stay.
 
Then Richie will be alone
A bachelor once more.
Fishing for himself again
.At the reservoir. 
​
But Rosie, you will return,
That we have now learned. 
We know you always do,
We can count on you.
 
So let us raise a toast
To our ospreys dear,
Here’s to Rosie and Richie
And a new Osprey Year!
 

 Welcome Spring                           
 
Welcome Spring, welcome birds,
Welcome back today.
We are glad to see you,
Chase that virus away.
 
May there be plenty of rain
Flowers bloom again,
Rain, rain, more than before
All our rivers restore. 
 
Welcome Spring, welcome blooms,
Welcome back today,
Bring us joy, lend us hope,
May goodwill  hold sway. 
 
May we heed what others say,
Keep our anger at bay.
Different points of view entertain,      
Find common ground again.
 
Welcome, Spring, welcome sun,
Welcome back today,
We are ready for some fun,
Let us gather and play.
 
We can start a new year,
Without anger, without fear,
Step out on a new way,
Keep from going astray.
 
Welcome, Spring, welcome world,
Lead us on our  way,
With a bright new  flag unfurled,
On this bright, sunny day. 




See Mary's new picture book for children on a timely topic, available on Amazon:

​Yellow daffodils
Waving in the morning sun
Say welcome to Spring.
 
 
Rainbow over Bay 
Shows all the colors of light
Hope for a new year.
 
 
Fiery skyscape
Red clouds, golden flattening ball
Diverts mind from now.
 
 
Eagerly watching
For the osprey to return
Hope is flying in.
 
 
Silence, once so sweet
Presses upon lonely soul
Music brings solace.
​

Doctor, medic, nurse
Toil selflessly for us
May we care for them.
 

Friends call, say hello
Send me a birthday present
Showing that they care.
 

​Warm body snuggled
Against my sleeping body
Brings heat and comfort.
 

A welcome phone call
How are you? Are you okay?
Just thinking of you.
 

​Scientists garb up
Work tirelessly day and night
Bring us a vaccine.

May those of us fortunate enough to have a roof over our heads and relatively good health remember those who have lost their livelihoods or their health in these hard times. May we practice compassion and show good will to all and help those in need as we are able. Together, we can emerge from these hard times into a renewed society and hope for a better future. Let us help the rainbow  shine through the clouds.