a long, slow bloom…

It’s planting time,
the season of stiff hands and shovels,
unnerving surprises and solutions-to-find
and scurry,
(a super-busy time for my gardening business)

and I’m trying,
really trying,
to un-hurry up about it.

I don’t want to waste precious moments
trying to strong-arm time;
I can’t control it’s pace
but  I can choose mine


so I’m moving mindful and flowy
when I remember
and clucking gentle to myself about it
when I forget

because they’re slipping by fast,
these moments,
and I don’t want to lose another one of them
to the blight of
hurry and rush


I hope your May is spacious,
that it’s a long,  slow bloom,
that you allow your eyes to wade through starry nights
and fields of wild things rustling,
finding lift where you feel heavy,
light where you feel hard,
lushness where you feel barren,
and love in all your parts.

free to mosey…


“It’s gonna be too late”
is a haggard-making lie.

How would it be
if we shake off the fear
of missing out,
of regret,
of coming up short
and trust ourselves instead
into the  slow,  unrushed flow
of showing up to the moments
as they come,

just  relax into the ramble
of our ride on down this river,
free to mosey,
poke and putter,
ease along
and saunter slow.

Really,  slowing down inside yourself
won’t cost you.
You’re free to choose your pace.

“Don’t move the way fear makes you move.
Move the way love makes you move.
Move the way joy makes you move.”

“It is a great art to saunter.”
H. D. Thoreau

I’ve loved sauntering through August with you:)