Jill's poems

PRAYING FOR RAIN

Spilling from a fullness that can it can no longer contain, dark menacing clouds find cathartic release and earth receives her cleansing. Clear drops ricochet off roof tops, umbrellas, ping-ponging off pools & quickly forming streams. Water, soul of the storm, resists nothing yet carves stone.  Eternally flowing, never destroyed, only changing form.  Like the sprits we are taking shape of a body that perishes, releasing a fullness that can no  longer be contained.

MOON 

The moon has not yet risen, but pulls me like a new love.  My horse is restless and 

I jump on her back to gallop into the evening, comrades of twilight.  My jumbled thoughts fall away like the sand under her hoofs when her bright forehead peaks over mountains of neon snow.  I breath in sage and yucca on cool evening air and gaze into the bright round face, and sense my immortality, and the gifts of solitude, refuge. Fully aware of my place, and allies’ unseen.

IN THIS MOMENT 

In this moment I am empty

No worry     No fear     No guilt

In this moment I am here

Quiet      Content     Contemplative

In this moment I treasure this peace

Listening      Looking       Feeling

In this moment things make sense

My place    My lessons    My tomorrows

In this moment is contained all there is

Past        Present        Future

BUTTERFLY

It flitters across the intersection-yellow, fragile wings tumbling across my windshield, caught in a roller coaster of traffic winds, then tumulted by a truck's sucking aftermath on a treacherous journey outside her comfort zone of gently swaying flowers. I picture the mustard stain on asphalt, helpless behind the wheel. But it emerge on the other side of the street, and I cheer this meandering wonder, embracing my vulnerability, oblivious of my own insensible splendor

THE NOW 

Now is not yesterday, or a year ago, or even the first word of this poem.  It is not the broken heart of a divorce, resentment from the past, or planning the future. Now is simply the present.  No additives, no figuring it out, no remorse, no fear, no delusions.  Now is not a place or a time. It is the purity of beingness with the potential to create whatever can be imagined.

QUIET  

On this morning's walk, my mind was not counting my steps 

reciting songs, or preoccupied with things to do. 

No internal dialog over matters that really don't matter.

It was quiet. Only the sound of the breeze, my breathing,

and the soft wings of a raven just overhead. All I had to do was listen 

to the trees and whatever secrets the open sky had to share.