Garden of Remembrance

Fog envelops the islands
as the changing air of autumn
blankets the sea with mystery.
Quietly we sit within the shroud
recalling the night sky passage
as crows haunt the trees
and we wait upon the sun.
Our path obscured,
our greater home hidden
but as we travel the ancient road
the garden of remembrance draws near
where fog lifts, the shroud pulls back
and we find our way once more
by the light of a brilliant star.



photograph by Brenda Jenkins





















Reading of “Garden of Remembrance” with music by Chick Corea and Gary Burton.





Nurture the Garden

The clouded sun
lights the sea,
gulls cry out
their morning welcome
and the daily news arrives.
The greater the disturbance
the deeper I reach
to nurture the garden.
Watered with silence,
fed with forgiveness,
the harvest is of spirit
and upon this altar
I am lifted.



Courtesy of Aldo Leopold Foundation
















Reading of “Nurture the Garden” with music by Kiev Chamber Choir.



Today is the Day

Today is the day the Morning Star rises,
today the day of the moon and sun;
today the wind and ebbing tide,
the color green yet full in the earth.
As mandalas are drawn
in the temples of Bhutan
each day the heavens are painted
and the ground brings forth.
All this I compress
into words of thanks
to the artist of the sky
and guardians of the deep,
at one with the mystery
as the autumn sun travels south.























Reading of “Today is the Day” with music by Bill Evans.


In that Emptiness

What will I sketch
upon sea and sky?
How can I add
to the living pallet?
I wake with the sun,
go down with the moon.
Looking out at the expanse
I find myself where
heaven and earth meet.
Don’t mistrust this dawn,
the stillness you might find;
in that emptiness
is your salvation.





















Reading of “In that Emptiness” with music by Ahura


Upon the Sacred Earth

The fire of the sun ignites the moon
to a golden lamp in the night sky.
We too thrive on solar light,
rising with the earth to father star.
Don’t let pettiness fool you,
we are made of the sun
and children of a holy world.
No longer taught the good road
we must find our bearings within.
Four forces are woven in our life forms,
four directions guide our fate.
Let us offer radiance
in this darkened night
with mercy as our counsel.
Though we speak in different tongues
we are but one upon the sacred earth.























Reading of “Upon the Sacred Earth” with music by Olga Kharitidi & Jim Wilson.


Loom of Time

The salt water is clear to the bottom
but the sky is clouded with smoke.
In Canada the forests are burning
and with wind from the north
we share the suffering.
We’re all one earth,
the sea and sky
and patient ground.
We eat from the same bowl,
drink from the same cup
and our long held beliefs
of separation and distance
are going up in flame.
We’ll learn again
the language of connection,
the words the old ones used,
for we are woven together
on the loom of time
with tear filled eyes
our common fate.



photograph by Louis MacKenzie





















Reading of “Loom of Time” with music by Sunday Service Choir.


In the Quiet

I waited on the moon
as dusk spread across the sea,
the distant mountains growing dark.
Then she rose over forested hills
and cast a golden stream
across the ebbing tide.
A sight for the ages
brothers and sisters,
without the palaver
of talking heads
and dueling voices.
Hours later the sun blazes
in the morning sky
and the greater light
brings earth alive
without turning dials
or tiresome speeches.
Sit here with me in the quiet
and we’ll learn together
what shapes this life.
We’ll find ourselves
and won’t forget
the touch of God
upon our faces.





















Reading of “In the Quiet” with music by The Doors


Summer Morn

Hummingbird wings
trill in the warm sun
as winter past
fades in memory.
The green world rises
and on this summer morn
like eagle with his early catch
I breakfast with the gods.


















Reading of “Summer Morn” with music by Morten Lauridsen


When Next We Meet

The day settles
into a lazy umber glow
as the tide rises to fill the cove.
The distant mountains
massive and snow capped,
remind me how little I know.
We humans are so small.
Is this why we cling to power?
Better to surrender vanity,
join the deer in their evening browse
or the teeming schools of silver fish.
Like the ancient stone and shoreline trees
I gather the wisdom of the old ones
through these island roots
to soften my calloused heart
that when next we meet
my eyes will be unblinded.




















Reading of “When Next We Meet” with music by Morten Lauridsen


Walking the Borderland

The borderland between this world
and the other is a lonely place,
fearful and unvisited by those
who prefer daylight
and the comfort of sleep.
I walk beneath the tall trees,
communing with the stars
above the darkened forest,
an outrider in the night
where life force rises
and the mystic becomes real.
Like the druids of old I relish silence,
find my place between heaven and earth.
Though I rail too often
against the violence of man
I offer you the kiss of peace
before my footprints quickly disappear.























Reading of “Walking the Borderland” with music by Alexey Rybnikov