The Girl in the Woods

I’m the girl in the woods

The one in the Dutchman’s Britches

With the heart of bloodroot.

I know you’ve seen me,

Seen me running through the oak,

Through birch and pine and aspen,

Through your dreams,

Running away, out of reach.

I’m the girl in the woods,

The one you desire, the one you fear,

The one with the violet eyes.

You can’t catch me, not in the woods

Or in your troubled dreams

I am gone, like smoke,

Like the past.

Judith

For a long-time friend, a shared childhood, for the little girls we all once were:

When I think of you,
I think of Lily of the Valley
and the plans for the
elaborate weddings we never had.

A girlhood trapped in the amber of time,
long-ago girls green as corn,
our sweet innocence light
upon our unkissed lips.

When I think of you,
I think of Lily of the Valley
and pretend that I don't know now
what we didn't know then.

I lie dreamless in a long-ago night,
our youth soughing on the wind,
our dreams shadows in the silver
moonlight.

When I think of you,
I think of Lily of theValley,
of heavy boughs of bridal wreath,
and apple blossoms falling softly
to the ground.

Home for the Holidays

It’s been a rough year – one way or the other.  Our world seems a different place from the world we knew, the world where we grew up.  There are no roadmaps, and it’s a bumpy ride. 

The holidays should be a comfort, but we all know better than that.  The pressure to entertain, to gift everyone under the sun and to tolerate our own relatives sometimes seems more than we can bear.  Thanksgiving is past and Christmas is hard upon us with all its anticipation and expectations. The days shorten and darkness descends on our planet, our home. It seems metaphorical, this descent of dark days before the world gets brighter. 

Our community has lost some fine folks this past year, people who were so much a part of the fabric of our world that we never really considered that they would leave us, and the holidays are rougher without them.  Some of the shine is gone.  The ancients considered the stars of the skies the eyes of those who have gone before us. We take comfort in in the night skies of December shining down upon all of us, reminders of those we love who are still a part of us and of our universe.  And that there is hope.

We are children of this universe, fragile souls on a fragile planet; we are not only stewards of that planet, but we are here to care for one another. We are all made of the same stardust: the magic of physics and religion and faith.

Be kind to one another, and to your home on earth as you pass through...we are all just passing through.