Burning bush

Sometimes I don*t know that I*m waiting for something until it happens.  While I know full well we have a burning bush in the front yard, it is green most of the year.  It only began turning red yesterday.  I forgot I was waiting for this.

Finally the burning bush

In front

Has begun to burn.

We had enough cold

To signal

Autumn is here.

Overnight

It seems

The bush took the hint.

The sugar maple

In our neighbor*s backyard

Turned to red and orange

Overnight,

The hint travelled

Up and down the street

And beyond.

Today is Halloween.

It is gray and wet.

The long-awaited colors

Are finally in tune

With the season.

The stage is set.

The bush

Is burning.

Search

This is one of those things that began in one place and ended in another.  I have changed environments a number of times today, and I cannot tell which way I am counting... up or down.  I think it has something to do with the barometric pressure.  These are interesting times, no matter if I am beginning or ending, or simply staying put.

The search continues.

Just as all of us

Count down

It seems we also

Count-up.

This ends

We-know-not-where

Except

We keep looking.

We keep waiting.

And sometimes

we do not count

At all.

Countdown

The college journey continues.  We are all counting different things.  My brother and sister-in-law arrived on Sunday, and left their car in our driveway so they could spend a couple of days in Chicago.  It*s a funny thing, this counting.  What happens when we arrive at the end... or do we just keep counting?  I keep finding new possibilities, even as I count.  

We are always

In some sort

Of countdown.

What we are counting towards

Varies

Person by person.

It*s not always New Year*s.

Sometimes it*s

To the end of world

As we know it,

With nothing

On the other side.

I waltz with the possibilities

Of what will happen

When zero arrives,

Whenever

Zero arrives.

It seems we are free

To choose

What we are counting.

Today I count the number of animals fed

By the crab apple tree

In the back yard.

Today I count the days

Before I preach

Namely: six.

We are always

In some sort of countdown.

Today I do two steps forward

One step back.

Then

Begin again.

When I sit quiet

The backyard crab apple makes a front yard appearance.

When I sit quiet,

Amazing things happen.

The wild world comes closer.

I see more.

This morning a gray squirrel

Hopped up onto the ice chest

Outside the living room window

Next to my quiet chair.

He held a crab apple

Between his front paws,

Turned the apple

With every bite he took.

If squirrels can relish

He relished this apple.

When I sit quiet

The backyard delights arrive

Next to my quiet chair,

Sit on the ice chest,

Relish the apples procured

From the back yard.

When I sit quiet

Amazing things arrive.

The intentions were good

The house was filled with family last night, two home safe and sound, and two to spend the night before their next excursion.  We went out for dinner.  Now it is me and the cat and the turtle figuring out what*s next. Perhaps I will heat up some soup for lunch.  The house still smells delightful.  Like heaven.  

The intentions were good.

The soup was made

And hot

The house smelled like my kind

Of heaven.

Conversation brought all of us

Up to speed,

With requisite laughter.

This morning I found

The guest air mattress leaked

All of its air

In the night.

I think now

In retrospect

My kind of heaven

Is not the same for someone

Who does not enjoy

Any sort of bean soup.

Alas.

The intentions were good.

We have a month*s worth

Of lentil mushroom barley soup

In the freezer,

With some saved out

For tonight*s supper.

The house still smells

Like heaven

To me.

Soup

Waiting for my brother and sister-in-law to arrive from their conference in Skokie, even as I wait for my husband and daughter to return home from D.C.  They will all converge on this house that smells like heaven.  Heaven right now smells like lentil mushroom barley soup with celery (and a few other things thrown in).  There's a chill in the air outside.  In here it is warm... and smells like heaven.

Soup bubbles

On the stove.

It waits for everyone

To arrive home

From distant states.

The house smells

Like heaven.

I particularly smell the celery

Right now,

But I know soon it will blend in

With all the other parts.

This is the way of soup.

Does heaven smell like

Lentil mushroom barley soup

With celery?

I think some days

It may.

As warmth diminishes

Outside

It seems important to remind ourselves

Of warmth

And even heaven

Inside.

Launch

As I consider next steps with my daughter, I consider next steps for a friend moving on to being a bishop.  I also consider next steps for myself.  It is often difficult to tell who is launcher, who is launch-ee,  I guess it depends on who is looking, and from where.  The next thing always remains to be seen.

So much is said

About launching our children

Into college.

Truth be told

We are always launching others

Or being launched ourselves

Into the wider Universe

And Beyond.

Sometimes we help prepare

The launching pad.

Sometimes we stand on the pad

Others have prepared for us:

Our arms are outstretched

Waiting

For the very next thing

To come.