Along the coast
the sweet smell of the sea
blends with forest green.
The sounds of tide and wind
and shore birds mixing
with woodpeckers thump,
the rustle of madrone leaves
and sigh of tall firs
swaying in the breeze.
Dawn lights an orange glow
with the sun peaking
over the horizon
in summer warmth.
With our cities upset, disease
and painful issues stressing
the fabric that holds us together
I sit apart, letting the peace
of the holy world settle in me
and offer my thoughts as prayers
on the altar of the earth,
sent out on the invisible
as quiet reminders
of the everyday miracle.

photograph by Louis MacKenzie

Reading of “Everyday Miracle” by the author with music by Tom Kenyon

When did you become a ghost,
angry and walking away?
Bad words were said,
turbulence between us,
but I called to you,
asked you back.
These are harsh times,
many will leave
a trail of ash.
It is easy to forget
and difficult to remember
who you are
beyond the illusions
that tear us apart.

Reading by the author with music by Dire Straits

Quietly the sea rests
between ebb and flow,
still water before the next tide.
The sun rises, golden light
through banks of blue-gray cloud,
the passing sound of eagle’s wings
and far off the hoot of a sea bird,
gathered in early light
to shape the new day forming.
Like water waiting upon the moon,
you may give way to the broad heaven,
let go the field of opposites
for the purity of the morning
and become malleable once more
to the Shaper’s hands.
The book is open to write your pages,
what you want to leave of yourself
in the great story. Your quiet
like the resting sea, the arc
of your wings over water,
the depth of your waiting
like the endless stone shore
and your fire, kindled like the sun
to burn and light the waking world.
Write this with your one life
and sign it with your blood.

Reading by the author with music by Tonbruket

Awakening from night
into low gray clouds
and soaking rain,
the land is quiet
but for tree tops
stirring in the wind.
The forge within
glows with heat,
shaping peace
from the unforgiven.
Compassion frees
the iron bound,
melting the chains
for souls to fly
into the sweet air
of freedom.

photograph by Malte Wingen

Reading of “Free the Iron Bound”

As the wind passes over the sea
we’re born on a flood of salt water
carried by the spirit.
We find ourselves and are lost,
lose ourselves and are found,
this mystery our brother,
the dark night our sister.
Coming alive, the dawn
announces a glory
trembling our hearts,
filling our lungs,
delighted in our
coming and going
like wingless angels.
We are shooting stars,
comets far from home,
blazing with our tail
of tears and joy.

Reading of “Wingless Angels” with music by Gillian Welch and David Rawlings