I marvel at these old cottonwoods
Some with gold and brown leaves
Few still with green
Age has only made this Bosque
More engrossed, tangled, wise
Small shoots regrow, becoming
Reaching for bird and sun
I cannot filter the trees into perfection
I can only wonder at their time in history
The chipmunks and squirrels who have
Made their home in the hollows
Of these old tree bones
Worn with time
My feet walk the path unseen
Comforted by this space in nature
This Bosque along the timeless Rio Grande
I stop to feel the grooves of a downed tree
I too am as worn
An age spot on my right cheek
Gray hairs have rooted
I am fortunate to have reached this age
Reaching for bird and sun
Photo by my daughter, M.J.M. | “Becoming” | Taken in the Bosque
“My face carries all of my memories. Why would I erase them?” by fashion designer, Diane Von Furstenberg
Mother Earth rotates endlessly
like Time has hours to spare.
The sun’s rays effortlessly shine
as seasons beautify for change.
One year turns to many
as our children grow. Echoes of laughter
race down the hall. Dust settles and ivory paint
fades amber, yet our home is still warm.
Autumn gathers brilliant leaves, as tail-wagging dogs crash through
scattering mountain-high piles into disarray.
Once, we made leaf angels alongside a path lined with ancient cottonwoods.
Bright yellow leaves rained down on us in slow motion–one leaf at a time.
Aging isn’t about growing old, it’s about finishing well–
with joy and little regret.
Embrace all that has
shaped who we are.
Listen. Time beats like heartache and love.
It’s sweet smelling like apple pie.
Then one day, lines etch your face, and you’re finally an enlightened woman
sitting atop the Sandia Mountains sharing aphorisms about growing wise.
Do you need strength in this moment?
Have you forgotten to love self?
To feel loving kindness?
Are you wandering from room to room?
Or sitting numb on your couch?
Are you cleaning the kitchen, again?
The bathroom, again?
Scrubbing boredom away.
Empty hours stack up—minutes turn into days.
Time is endless.
The only excitement is groceries being delivered
and finally, they had in stock a beautiful, organic tomato.
A prayer of thanks.
In the garden, your seeds just begin.
You pull weeds so seeds have room to grow.
The sun shines today.
The dog carries his ball in his mouth,
his tongue out the side panting.
The birds sing,
a Cooper Hawk flies from tree to tree
It is the little things
that bring breath
and calm. Lilacs bloom.
You give some to your daughter
so she can place on her nightstand.
You make her blueberry banana muffins with crumble on top,
plain banana muffins for son.
After a shower and clean hair, the night settles.
Your prayers and wishes
for connection settle the soul.
It is not in others, but in self that prayers are answered
in the little things—
all tremendous blessings hidden in sweet
breaths. Inhale, exhale.
Big breaths in. Lots of love out—
sleep brings peace and tomorrow is a new day.
Sunbeams break empty waves undulate into a withered desert there is one butterfly on a 24 hour adventure a raven, a rabbit, and a coyote– all minding their own business a bee searches for one purple flower for shade and pollen
the red sun is angry, anxious heart scorched black her resentment explodes into 107 degree days cacti sweat like silent sentinels
the mountain tries to console her let her know she is not abandoned perhaps the universe turned its back upon her but the stars reach to hold her she’s not appeased alas, her rays
still rise in the East and set in the West she reflects,