ElizabethAyres3
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I'm giving thanks for ... the gift of earth, carefully cultivated (lawn, rose arbor) or wild and profuse (ivy-clotted cliffs, leaping deer).
8:33 AM Nov 24th
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I'm giving thanks for ... the gift of sky. Its wisps, tatters, billows of clouds. Its many blues. At sunset, its carnelian paving stones.
7:53 AM Nov 23rd
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I'm giving thanks for ... the gift of water. Like silver or silk or tumbling jazz notes. In diamond dashes or foam-flecked tiers.
1:17 PM Nov 22nd
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Now we can look at the trees and see the season's accomplishment: the stripping of green flesh from canescent bones.
9:43 AM Nov 17th
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The secret to humanity's becoming may be hidden in the book each of us writes in response to Nature's beauty, wisdom, mystery.
7:59 AM Nov 10th
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Clouds are ephemeral companions, assuaging the emptiness of a vast and relentless sky.
6:16 AM Nov 5th
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There is some deep hunger at the heart of all matter to be more than, to break free of, whatever constraints its form currently imposes.
7:17 AM Nov 2nd
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In the barn of the heart, love’s tools await their moment of use as we set about the task of caring for Earth, our only and every Beloved.
10:09 AM Oct 19th
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If we let the blind promptings of one moment’s reaching carry us beyond confusion, we can arrive at moments of pure and emergent wonder.
5:38 AM Oct 13th
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Late September. Time to prepare for winter’s dark oven. Time to befriend the night,
10:48 AM Sep 27th
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Just this, as evening prayer: a cloud-shawl draped across sky's azure shoulders, in gauzy wisps of white, pink, lavender and gray.
3:10 PM Sep 2nd
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Just this, as morning prayer: eager squash vines haul themselves upwards on fruit-laden blackberry branches that bend to touch the earth.
4:33 AM Aug 17th
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In late summer, the dessicated hum of insects is a pendemonium pulse that inflates and deflates for mysterious reasons known only to itself.
4:55 AM Aug 15th
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Clouds: a mutable ‘me’ in a shifting ‘we.’ An absolutely unique and unrepeatable variation on an absolutely constant theme.
11:57 AM Aug 6th
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I hear the creaking wings of an unseen gull, its gray body blending into the gray mist as a dream blends into sleepT
8:36 PM Aug 3rd
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Dragonflies. Born of water, maturing into air, living with an exuberant joy we might all do well to imitate in our own ephemeral existence.
7:08 AM Jul 27th
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It feels good to be nestled within earth's two great wings of morning and evening, a day simultaneously unremarkable and unrepeatable.
8:02 AM Jul 23rd
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Choreographed into our being is a mysterious exchange between creation and annihilation, between possibility and the extinction there.
2:09 PM Jul 7th
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This riverscape speaks in the creaking wings of an unseen gull, its gray body blending into the gray mist as a dream blends into sleep.
3:55 PM Jul 6th
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I study the ragged edges of clouds as if they offered a map to the uncharted territory my life has become.
12:35 PM Jun 17th
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- Name Elizabeth Ayres
- Location Maryland
- Web http://elizabetha...
- Bio Award-winning poet, essayist, creative writing teacher ([ unsafe link ]). Author of WRITING THE WAVE, KNOW THE WAY, LAND OF OUR BELONGING
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