Happy Birthday, Kaitlin. It's a joy to celebrate it with you. This whole week has been a sensory and revelatory experience as I've pondered the gifts and meaning of autumn through your poetry and prompts. I do feel like I'm coming home to myself. Thank you for today's beautiful poem.
Happy Birthday Kaitlin! Enjoy this sacred day of your earth birth. Thank you for sharimng your lovedly poem with us, a birthday gift to each of us! Here is what your poem and prompt brought forth for me.
Awe and Wonder
I stand in the middle of this mountain meadow,
alive in wonder, awakening the moment.
This life shifts into ecstatic wisdom,
sensing the world will never be the same.
Autumn swirls and whirls in the air,
a fiery presence, a symphonic crescendo
calling out to rise and shine into a new day.
Some days, you are a subtle presence,
my awareness of you kindled by woodsmoke
gliding quietly across the meadow.
Sky bluer than the hearts of angels,
bird songs the poems I have been searching for.
I pray this world will see centuries of autumns,
and that the children who carry our hearts in their dancing,
Happy birthday!
My response includes some reflections from day #2 - trees can teach us about the ebbs and flows of community and individuality.
You stand tall and proud, as you do each day.
Today, though, something feels different.
As your leaves dance in the wind, there is an extra pep in their step.
They shimmer and glimmer
bejeweled in the unique yellow tone of you.
All summer you have stood in the collective - sisters is swaths of green providing shade and homes.
Now, still intertwined, you and your sisterhood emerge as individuals.
Your radiance does not diminish that of others,
but rather calls it forth.
Your calm, quiet confidence gives others,
even me,
permission to be fully ourselves while being
fully held by community.
Autumn reminds me of all my senses--from its arrival to its end.
I eagerly await the changing of the leaves. Every morning's drive an observation. Have the tints of red and orange arrived yet?
Campfires mixed with cut grass mixed with the five "fall scented" candles I bought at Aldi. Chrysanthemums.
Soup. All the soup. All the squash. And the pumpkin. And s'mores. And apples.
Shivers in the morning. That particular feeling in the air.
The faint sound of Marching Band practice and football games over the PA system at the high school down the street.
Autumn brings the comfort no other season does.
So,
I count my rings and wonder
if I'm about done.
I've been here a while.
But I do feel pretty strong.
I have lots of friends.
And all the dogs
that keep coming to mark me.
they think I am still worthy
of their pee.
But there's those guys,
the funny looking guys
in suits and hard hats
that keep pointing up at me
and writing stuff down.
They are worrysome.
(Happy birthday kaitlin)
Happy Birthday, Kaitlin. It's a joy to celebrate it with you. This whole week has been a sensory and revelatory experience as I've pondered the gifts and meaning of autumn through your poetry and prompts. I do feel like I'm coming home to myself. Thank you for today's beautiful poem.
Happy birthday. I love today's poem, to kearn to wait and love in the space we are in rather than always looking elsewhere for the next thing
Happy birthday, Kaitlin! I'm 71 on Tuesday and am grateful for you, a "kid" to teach me what only you can. Keep listening — and sharing what you hear.
Happy Birthday, Kaitlin. I'm glad you're in the world and sharing the beauty of your world with us!
Happy Birthday Kaitlin! Enjoy this sacred day of your earth birth. Thank you for sharimng your lovedly poem with us, a birthday gift to each of us! Here is what your poem and prompt brought forth for me.
Awe and Wonder
I stand in the middle of this mountain meadow,
alive in wonder, awakening the moment.
This life shifts into ecstatic wisdom,
sensing the world will never be the same.
Autumn swirls and whirls in the air,
a fiery presence, a symphonic crescendo
calling out to rise and shine into a new day.
Some days, you are a subtle presence,
my awareness of you kindled by woodsmoke
gliding quietly across the meadow.
Sky bluer than the hearts of angels,
bird songs the poems I have been searching for.
I pray this world will see centuries of autumns,
and that the children who carry our hearts in their dancing,
will be here, listening to your beauty
in this mountain meadow.