April 2012 Archives


Old lady returns
From morning walk
This pleasant April day
Of fresh green leaves.


Soft morning mist
Flatirons rose pink
Chickadee celebrates new day.


Raindrops sparkle
On hyacinth and lilac
Fresh snow on the foothills.


Clouds gathering
Storm approaching
Calm for now.


Early morning sun
Casts sharp shadows on the Flatirons.


Clear morning after thunderstorm
A woman jogging
Blackbirds sing.


Startled rabbit hops away
As I run to catch the sunrise colours.


In the cool of the morning
Chickadee sings
A couple enjoy a bike ride.


The week stirs to life
Bread van passes
American robin heralds Monday morning.


This sparkling Easter morning
Is poignant for me.
Hearing the bluejay squawk
I miss the peals of English bells
Ringing through Christchurch Park.


Lazy cloudless afternoon.
Mountains rest
Beneath blue haz


Blackbirds, wrens and chickadees join dawn chorus
Greet the growing light.


Hanuman (Photo credit: bananeman)


It is good Friday.

The Son of Man dies on the cross.

The Son of the Wind is born,

Darkening the Sun

In his eager flight

To grasp the golden fruit.


With dispassion stronger than diamond

I break the glittering baubles

Fame, wealth, power, prestige,

Houses, cattle, cars and land.

What use are these trinkets to me

Without the Name of Ram?

What good is even my life to me

If 'Rama' is not written on every rib?

In the anguish of longing for Him

My chest is torn open

My heart plucked out. 

He Ram, He Ram

Why have you forsaken me?


Hungry for the fruit of liberation

I hurl myself towards the sun

And fall again,

Lifeless and cold

To the earth.

Come, Son of the Wind

Revive me with fragrant herbs

From the Garden of Gethsemane

The Child of Eve is dying

Let the Child of the Wind be born.

Carry me home

To the city without conflict

May my heart be the heart of Hanuman

Where Ram and Sita dwell.


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Clear blue sky
 Spring grass
Golden morning sunlight
Precious moment!


Cloud sits on Bear Peak
Birds greet new day
Snow-cleansed, purified
Radiant glowing suchness!


The same place is never the same
Nothing can be recaptured
Every moment is fresh.
Some days
There is no mountain.


Fragrance of wet earth
Gentle drizzle blesses
Thirsty mesas.


Fresh spring green
Plum blossom
April evening.


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    About this Archive

    This page is an archive of entries from April 2012 listed from newest to oldest.

    March 2012 is the previous archive.

    May 2012 is the next archive.

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