I love to touch you, especially as you cascade in a loud, full force waterfalls or a tiny trickle gently flowing over the large rocks I discovered and I climbed up on along a mountain path, watching you spill into a quiet mountain stream. Thank You.
I love to sit in your saltiness in the vast ocean. I remember the day you became an inviting living room for a few old lady little-while friends. We sat and talked, sunshine and laughter, filling hours in our day. You even provided the stage for the dolphin dance we enjoyed as evening approached. Thank You.
You live in my backyard and I love to take my kayak out and float and paddle on your reflective surface. You offer me the best medicine as I watch in wonder the Creation you give life to; the swaying willow trees, the long legged blue herons, the swans, even a bald eagle every now and then. Turtles sit on long ago fallen trees basking in the sunlight and plop into you as I slowly drift by. Thank You.
I love showing you off to my grandchildren, in the little ponds and big puddles where water bugs skate on your surface and tadpoles dig into the mud you made. Thank You.
Waves and wonder.
Drops and diamond sparkles.
I drink you in.
You ground my feet in this earth. You wrap yourself around me. Living Water.
You give me hope for all the dry and crusty places people sometimes create here. You never stop being you, in all your forms, in all your life-giving identities. You offer yourself, free for the taking. Healing my heart. Refreshing my soul. Thank You.
Yes, "Down to the River to Pray" is an American traditional hymn and there is a verse calling sisters down to the river to pray. Thinks for reminding me, Chuck.
Kaitlin, I love water. Water in any form. I find it restful, healing. Thank you for using water as a medicine prompt. Moon water is a new concept for me, and I am intrigued. Thank you for inviting all to participate in this May ritual.
Thank you for the beautiful Water prompt and Moon Water. I just wrote and published my own musings on Water.
'Water is the Lifeblood of the Mother' - this one resonates so so deeply with me. I'm thinking about your last book and the Oak Tree and how Water is running through the veins of the Oak and thus through all our stories.
Another “ahhhh” for me Kaitlin. Moon Water. My daughter told me about this and I have to try it myself. I’ve had trouble sleeping lately. Hoping this added evening ritual may help.
Thank you, again, for this sweet morning opportunity. Your email with the new word prompt comes right in the midst of my morning quiet space. It really blesses my day in a magnificent way. ♥️🥳
Dad, does water float?
A question i still ponder
From my 8 year old.
You have a very wise 8-year old. Thanks to you both for making me think.
I can’t “heart” this enough!
❤️
That’s the best!
Perfect!! ♥️
She trekked through gorges deep
where rivers had run dry from the labor of their shaping.
She sat beside the trickling creek
in the kind of prayer they said did not belong.
She spread her wings to soar the shores
of waters wide with the story of separation.
She climbed as high as the sky would let her
to find the source of
waterfalls.
And there she heard the whispered call.
There is no beginning
and no end.
No before
No after.
There is only the gentle flow of now.
Oh, this line: "in the kind of prayer they said did not belong." Wow.
So beautiful
Beautiful, Margaret!
💦
Water
I love to touch you, especially as you cascade in a loud, full force waterfalls or a tiny trickle gently flowing over the large rocks I discovered and I climbed up on along a mountain path, watching you spill into a quiet mountain stream. Thank You.
I love to sit in your saltiness in the vast ocean. I remember the day you became an inviting living room for a few old lady little-while friends. We sat and talked, sunshine and laughter, filling hours in our day. You even provided the stage for the dolphin dance we enjoyed as evening approached. Thank You.
You live in my backyard and I love to take my kayak out and float and paddle on your reflective surface. You offer me the best medicine as I watch in wonder the Creation you give life to; the swaying willow trees, the long legged blue herons, the swans, even a bald eagle every now and then. Turtles sit on long ago fallen trees basking in the sunlight and plop into you as I slowly drift by. Thank You.
I love showing you off to my grandchildren, in the little ponds and big puddles where water bugs skate on your surface and tadpoles dig into the mud you made. Thank You.
Waves and wonder.
Drops and diamond sparkles.
I drink you in.
You ground my feet in this earth. You wrap yourself around me. Living Water.
You give me hope for all the dry and crusty places people sometimes create here. You never stop being you, in all your forms, in all your life-giving identities. You offer yourself, free for the taking. Healing my heart. Refreshing my soul. Thank You.
Lay me down beside the river,
for I have wont for water.
Water, the giver of life.
Bathes the tiny infant in the womb,
flows through vein and artery,
bathes each cell of the body.
We may be tissue and bone,
but water is the primary star,
the giver of life.
Lay me down beside the river,
for I have wont for water.
Lay me down,
for I need my rest.
sisters, let's go down
Let's go down, come on down
O sisters, let's go down
Down in the river to pray
Yes, "Down to the River to Pray" is an American traditional hymn and there is a verse calling sisters down to the river to pray. Thinks for reminding me, Chuck.
A beautiful hymn!
Water
Water—a verb dancing with
falling
wheeling
spouting
coloring
skiing
sliding
logging
witching
Water—a noun partnered with
thrush
melon
lily
cress
wheel
mark
I dive into a watery world
beneath the surfaces of
dry land’s
disorder.
Dousing for life.
Dousing for life beneath the dry land's disorder! Beautiful.
Rain, again. Leaves bend
beneath the weight of falling drops,
and blurred reflections of the world
flicker on the floor of the deck. It's quiet,
the riot of colour subdued
by the grey of the sky, and yet,
the gently weeping trees
have never looked so alive.
Blessings from Oshun and Yemaya. When I sit by the Hudson River, I feel seen, heard, and healed.
🌊🫶🏼🌀
The lake is still, blue nothing moves
In its water fish are lazing around,
Looking for caddis flies on the bottom.
The grasses and trees stand in
Prayerful contemplation on the shore
Their roots spreading towards the water
All is still quiet, waiting, waiting
In the distance black clouds
Like anvils form
They too are water, small drops
Held aloft in the atmosphere
They are blown ever nearer
Getting ready to lose their rage
The birds retire to branches
Feeling the on-coming storms
Watching, waiting
Praying with the grasses and trees
Fearing destruction of nests
Hoping for survival
The first droplet falls from the sky
The atmosphere becomes chaotic
Large drops descend drumming on the land
The lake boils with movement
A bolt of lightning hits a tree
Fire, immediately quenched by the rain
The cloud moves on
The rain ceases, silence again
The grasses and trees drink the nectar
The fish look for flies drowned
The lake becomes still, nothing moves….
9 May 2026
Such powerful movement through the storm. Such a picture and story of chaos captured.
today, planting milkweed and monarda in the rain,
mud soaked and intent on
welcoming bees to the pond and puddles, monarchs to the nursery,
noticing where last year’s rose of sharon seeds have fallen and sprouted,
where last year’s sprouts have grown, anointing this muddy patch with new shade.
shifting the shape and essence of the land.
blessed by Mother’s joyful tears.
I love that you plant milkweed and monarda…in hope!
Mermaid
slight slice of water
as your arm broke pool's surface,
arced over your head.
Lips exhaled breaths of chlorine,
breaths of fragility.
With swan's grace, you swam
lap after lap after lap,
kicking away despair, uncertainty,
gathering strength, courage
until your soul water wept from pores,
each drop a harbinger of death.
Mother's salt mingled with daughter's tears.
Kaitlin, I love water. Water in any form. I find it restful, healing. Thank you for using water as a medicine prompt. Moon water is a new concept for me, and I am intrigued. Thank you for inviting all to participate in this May ritual.
Yes, Kaitlin. Thank you. This prompt arose so many possibilities (what KIND of water?) and it was lovely to explore them.
water
calls to the
sailor
set sail
it is time
to work
water
calls to the
lovers
get married
on the beach
or honeymoon
near or on
the water
water
calls to the
soul
relax
refresh
rest
I think we are all sailors of one kind or another.
Thank you steven.
Thank you for the beautiful Water prompt and Moon Water. I just wrote and published my own musings on Water.
'Water is the Lifeblood of the Mother' - this one resonates so so deeply with me. I'm thinking about your last book and the Oak Tree and how Water is running through the veins of the Oak and thus through all our stories.
Another “ahhhh” for me Kaitlin. Moon Water. My daughter told me about this and I have to try it myself. I’ve had trouble sleeping lately. Hoping this added evening ritual may help.
Thank you, again, for this sweet morning opportunity. Your email with the new word prompt comes right in the midst of my morning quiet space. It really blesses my day in a magnificent way. ♥️🥳
I am a thimble in the ocean of life
Dipping in and holding small portions
Expanding where I can to contain
The uncontainable.
Watch me pour out
and make a splash.
Not a ruckus but a ripple
One that spans a wide wrinkle
A gentle disturbance of what’s around me
Yet an impact that sinks deep–
The quiet plunge of my particular particulates
The cosmic debris that is me.
Water and breath decant and run clear
Both finite and yet infinite
Timeless and holding all time
Shapeshifting and scattering
Through the ages
With and against the current, I flow.
The thunderstorm has passed
so we can swim after all.
An unexpected sunset turns the whole lake to
coral fire
cool and burning.
Can my life become still enough
to reflect the Light?
a beautiful question to live-- thank you
Nature is a good source of beautiful questions!