A Place Where Birds Come

May this be a place where birds come
where songbirds come
trilling resistance to hoarse despair

where determined dandelions press
through the broken back of concrete
and moss moves to meet them
while berries bob and hang
heavy with ripeness and ready to drop
 
where spiders find the needed stillness
to weave their winking strands
and monarchs ride the breeze
etching their shadows on lifting leaves.

Come into this place of birds and bees.
Notice the texture of living things.
Drink the sky and eat
huge helpings of sun-glazed air.


-CJM summer to fall, 2017

Breathe With the Trees

Breathe with the trees-
Just breathe -
In -
Out -
In -
Out -
Joining the waving cilia of ferns
The hush of the air brushing
Mossy evergreen branches,
Filling secret hidden lungs.

The forest opens out -
Opens me -
Soul-birthing depths of lush green life
Unstoppable, ungoverned
Akimbo, askew
Fallen and reborn
Quiet and still and strong
Strong
Strong

Going To Meet the Whales

My heart is full of endings, and I'm going to meet the whales.
At the ocean's surfing edge, children tickle the toes of God,
While in the mist, world-weary elders breathe in heaven's peace,
And in the crashing storms behold
Old Testament fury.
Beyond the shore, below the waves, lie unfathomed depths,
Too broad to compass, too vast to hold, a surging, eternal will.
My heart is full of endings, and I'm going to meet the whales.

Canoe Memory

by Cynthia J. McGean

In the calm of the lake, 

The ripples on the water,
The buzz of a dragonfly,
The hum of cicadas,
In the dip of the paddle
And the whisper
      of the breeze
Speaks the still, small voice
Of God.