Last night at dinner, we toasted my mother and all mothers. It is amazing to realize none of us would be here without those wombs of nine months.
I am feeling the pulse of the mountain rising up through my feet. That grace propels my morning flow.
Tears must be as close
because with each piece of news I hear
my eyes moisten
and a sob of response mobilizes
deep in my gut.
Is it like the mountain
with its holds of trees
coming up from inner springs,
the clouds leaving shadows
of shade on its slopes?
Is there always this place of tears,
that salty ocean that keeps us going,
like the lemming plunge of river to sea?
My life is blessed.
The tears express gratitude
for this precious life.
So blessed and precious,
in this moment,
and the next,
absolutely everything seems to me.
With each step, the earth gives me a little push, Up.
I feel that boost in my chest; arms open to receive.
Shoulder blades spread; hands reach.
I’m given all I need, massaged by earth and sky.
The clouds are towels to rinse my eyes.
The blue lifts my head, then, lands a kiss
that wiggles my toes in the leap
What does the mountain say today?
Rest, rest in my streams and on my meadows.
Stroll deeply into the green and gold.
Meet the people who walk my slopes
and know I am showering blessings on you,
bringing them up through your feet and toes
to your eyes where they spread and glow
like fires and stars at night.