Morning Prayer-Spring Equinox 2018




I arise facing East,
I am asking toward the light;
I am asking that my day
Shall be beautiful with light.
I am asking that the place
Where my feet are shall be light,
That as far as I can see
I shall follow it aright.
I am asking for the courage
To go forward through the shadow,
I am asking towards light!–Mary Austin


Mary Austin wrote about life in the Sierra Nevada mountains and valleys of California, about the Native peoples, the white settlers, the animals and the natural rhythm of the area.

For National Coffee Day I Wrote a Poem!

I am no poet, but something inexplicable comes over me every morning while preparing this magic elixir. So I had to do something about it.*

From the Queen Mary, Long Beach. CA

In the morning. Those first few sips……ahhhhh…….


Oh coffee, how do I love thee, let me count the ways:**

I love thee because you make my eyes and brain sparkle

I love thee because your taste makes me think of exotic, tropical places

I love thee because when I need the buzz, you always come through

I love thee because whether I’m in Reykjavik, New York City or Akron, Ohio a cuppa Joe is a cuppa of Joe

I love thee because MY coffee is so good, I don’t even have to go to Starbucks

and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

Yes, I am ‘one of those,’ who grounds the coffee and has her own latte maker. 🙂


*This is a repost from last year, because, well, you can’t celebrate coffee enough, imo!

**With thanks (and apologies) to Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

That Famous Tree Poem is not What I Thought

On my walk this morning, I noticed that all the trees in my neighborhood are full of leaves now. I don’t know the names of all of them, but my crepe myrtle’s spindly branches are now fully covered.


I don’t know if it is my imagination, but if trees really do help with oxygenating the air, then I got a good dose this morning. Maybe it is the drenching we’ve received from the El Niño rains, because from the thickness of leaves on branches, summer is near. Breathe deep their gift of clean air, O Southern California!

In thinking about all the trees I pass by and walk under in my neighborhood, I remembered the first line of this well-known poem:“I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree…” But I could not go on, so I looked it up. I was very surprised by the rest of it, part prayer/part tree as source of life. And I don’t think I realized it was so old. It is very touching.

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the sweet earth’s flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day, 
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.

Alfred Joyce Kilmer. 1886–1918