Early Winter

His breath,
Cloaks every surface;
Father Sky.

For a few days last week, we awoke to fog and mist.  On one of those days after breakfast, standing in the garden, it felt as if the sky had fallen to earth; the air was full of moisture, everything was damp.  Later I took some photos and wrote the verse above.

Today, as I prepared to publish this, I received posts of particular relevance.  Harini in India, writes about a dream and her wish for a bit more rain, and Rosaliene in the USA, introduces her readers to another wonderful poet.  Here are the links:

Snow on the plateau

“Waiting for Rain (Again)” – Poem by Jamaican Poet Tanya Shirley

I have been re-reading some chapters of Robin Wall Kimmerer’s wonderful book, Braiding Sweetgrass: Allegiance to Gratitude.  She writes that like many Native peoples across the world, her own Potawatomi sunrise ceremony is rooted in gratitude. At school they would give thanks to all the waters of the world, for quenching thirst, giving strength and nurturing the life of all beings.

May we all be grateful for Earth’s bounty.

Ashley