Silent wind-chimes suspended from red-painted ironwork...
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J-D Engle: Born in late-mid twentieth century Oklahoma
and grew up across America as an Air Force brat. Been a retail manager, middle school teacher and, for the last decade and a half, Facilities Manager, Volunteer Coordinator, Newsletter Editor/Writer, Events Manager, costumed interpreter and general dogsbody at a no longer existent National Park historic farm unit. |
Sunday, March 30 3:18 pm Santa Fe, New Mexico
From my balcony, I gaze upon the memory of the Florentine Duomo.
She luxuriates under a full moon that illuminates her facade.
She has seen the Black Plague, extreme fires and floods, the renaissance, World War I, World War II and she knows...
She knows mankind’s darkest faults and grandest moments. She knows heinous and unspeakable acts.
She knows also acts of extreme sacrifice, divine acts of compassion and kindness and has witnessed
creativity in its utmost form. She comprehends our vulnerabilities, our strengths and abilities.
As she glows under the moonlight, she reminds us all, that our human spirit is resilient, it is divine, and that she and we, as a
collective consciousness, will remain, endure, perhaps in a new form.
We will, as a phoenix, from the ashes, arise with more love, more compassion and finally unite as one.
- Cathy Magni
From my balcony, I gaze upon the memory of the Florentine Duomo.
She luxuriates under a full moon that illuminates her facade.
She has seen the Black Plague, extreme fires and floods, the renaissance, World War I, World War II and she knows...
She knows mankind’s darkest faults and grandest moments. She knows heinous and unspeakable acts.
She knows also acts of extreme sacrifice, divine acts of compassion and kindness and has witnessed
creativity in its utmost form. She comprehends our vulnerabilities, our strengths and abilities.
As she glows under the moonlight, she reminds us all, that our human spirit is resilient, it is divine, and that she and we, as a
collective consciousness, will remain, endure, perhaps in a new form.
We will, as a phoenix, from the ashes, arise with more love, more compassion and finally unite as one.
- Cathy Magni
Tuesday, March 31 6:35pm Prague, Czech Republic
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On the buildings across the street, what’s below is in shadow, while the up above is light with late day sun.
Slowly, as the sun lowers, the shadow rises. I’m trying to figure out direction. The moon showed me the other night. It’s light now even though it is late because unbeknownst to me, Europe changed time the other night. Each morning, I see a man through my window and then his window doing his exercises. The movements of his arms catch my eye. In another apartment at another time of day, I see a woman practice yoga. She has on all the right clothes. Now, for the first time, I see that some of my unknown neighbors have placed flowers in their windows. Three. One to each vertical pane. Without my glasses and from this distance, they look like grape hyacinth. Yes, while all the stores are closed, flower shops are open. Isn’t that a wonder? And when there are flowers, people can bring blooms home with them. – Linney Wix |
Monday, March 30 4:31pm Santa Fe
Right now, I see huge clouds looking down on a sea of junipers.
I see winds of change sweeping away old ways of being in this world.
I see bird droppings on the deck. Each morning, on the bird bath having their morning waters,
my close allies bring messages of hope.
Robins, bluebirds and often a flicker, flicker of my desire tapping on the ice
to make a hole to reach the water underneath.
He is persistent - tap tap tapping, drumming, knocking until he reaches his desire
in this high desert we call home.
In the distance, I see mountains to the south where I long to drive and reach the other side of this "Sheltering In Place"
Soon, I tell myself, soon. In the meantime, each day I crave yoga , and I drum up the discipline
to do it more and more on my own, though it often takes, primero, a cup of cafecito.
I see my Haitian Mermaid Metal sculpture outside my window. She hung all winter by the fireplace.
But last week, she wanted to be moved to the Winds of Change outside.
She is inside of me, a creature of living waters.
Tuesday, March 31 2:07pm Forest Heights, MD
My Daffodils are fading from their glorious bright yellow full bloom.
My green leafed Iris are springing upwards toward the missing sun on an overcast day.
My red tinged sprouting Peonies are showing their gratitude for being adopted and transplanted by me.
In their previous location, in another yard, far away, they felt unwanted because they were mowed regularly,
not allowed to show their full glory.
I look forward to the arrival of all the bright colors of spring, hoping and praying that I live so long.
I see the eastern slope of my backyard and halfway up the slope, a dark hole perhaps a rabbit hole or a fox’s den.
Thinking of a rabbit, I think of the Mad Hatter, of Alice in Wonderland fame.
“Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh, no! Oh, no!
I’m late, I’m, late, I’m late for a very important date.”
Monday April 6 8:30pm Santa Fe, New Mexico
There you are, clear against the night sky rising from Picacho peak,
as if the mountains were just a door mat waiting for you.
Nothing else matters in the world but your translucent brilliance.
Your beaming smile laughing at us tiny humans down here. As if all our drama really mattered.
Is my face a moon?
Is my chest filled with your glow?
Gliding endlessly through our space, tied to our turnings, sucking, pulling our waters.
The rhythm that makes our hearts beat. Our breaths rise and fall.
Now, you show yourself as a thin lucent sliver with Venus hanging there, like the most brilliant diamond.
Seducing me to step inside that radiant portal that leads to a hundred thousand sighs and a billion tears.
Watching with no waiting. Watching in the boundless neutrality of our universe.
I know in your long view you care somewhere in your changeable soul.
But, for now, darkness is here.
We can walk the earth, unobserved.
Helen Chantler is a
jewelry designer who lives in Santa Fe, New Mexico. www.Reflectivejewelry.com |
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