Gold leaves

More steps in gold leaves.

I wake and wonder

What next steps

I shall take,

What next steps

I shall put off

For now.

I know

They will come later.

I am on the road

To Oz.

Gold leaves

Cover the front walk.

My companions are often

Unlikely.

I am on the road

To Somewhere.

Gold leaves

Blanket the front walk

And yes

The back yard

As well.

Which door

Shall I use?

My companions offer

Different possibilities.

They search

For brains

For courage

For heart.

Gold leaves show us

The way.

We

All of us

Search for Home.

I live for this morning

I still feel the clarity of yesterday, even with the gray sky.  Sometimes I am able to live in the moment, take things as they come.  These are gracious times.  I do not always live here, but this morning...I do.

This morning is gold

Against silver gray

The sun is behind

Thin clouds.

They say the cold

Is coming soon

And with the cold

More winter things.

I live for this morning

Gold leaves

On the palest gray,

Burning bushes still green

In my front yard.

The snow may catch them

Unaware.

Me?

I will take it

As it comes.

White fragrance

I was the Wednesday celebrant this noon.  I rarely do this.  Today was John Eliot, a provisional bracketed saint.  We're trying him out.  I believe his final vote for inclusion in the calendar is at the upcoming General Convention.  We'll see.   Then... home to find a clematis I'd given up for dead with at least six blossoms, fragrant as all get out.  A scan around the yard finds three more clematis I'd given up on, leafing out to beat the band.  It must be the year of the clematis.  Who knew?

I come home

From celebrating a bracketed saint

He has one more vote to go

Before he makes

The semi-official list.

I come home

Find the fragrant white clematis

Clings to the burning bush.

I gave it up for dead

Last year.

Two leaves

Then nothing.

Now

It is finally time

For garden twine,

Time to trim back

The burning bush,

Give white fragrance

Free reign.

Practice needs to be noticed

As I wrote this, I realized it is an illustration of the subject.  In itself, it is practice.  I'm sure something could be written which says it better.  Not today.  Today I remind myself, I listen to others and tell them what I notice.  Today I listen to Jesus saying: Like the tree, like the vine, give yourself more time.  Meanwhile: Great leaves.  

Another week

To remind my clients

And therefore,

To remind myself:

Practice

Needs to be noticed.

Practice

Is in the effort,

Not in the result.

The fruits of practice

Are not perfection.

The fruits of practice

Are found

Hung on the vine.

Sometimes they are

The expected grapes.

Of course

Sometimes little grows

For now.

Sometimes grape leaves

Are all we get.

Jesus famously said

Give it more time.

Meanwhile

Practice.