A Cabin Wonderland

Did I like Alice fall into the rabbit hole

I’m in this wonderland of snow and ice

Trees like pencil slashes

Reach into the snow filled sky

I step onto the frozen pond

Like Peter I’m afraid I’ll sink—I won’t of course

In the middle of this lake of ice

I turn and look at the cabin

Cold burns my cheeks

But I still smile

As warmth floods my heart and soul

With love and wonder for this place

This is not a dream

I am very much awake and alive

And this is truly wonderland

Exceeding every expectation

Nancy Perkins

February 2015

Walking Through the Woods on a Snowy Morning

Not a day for a hike

But off we go into the woods

Snow is falling; it’s very cold

I grab the stick my daughter hands me

And follow in her boot prints

Step by step

The creek along the trail

Is not your summer creek

Transformed by snow and ice

My sister’s blue coat and

My pink scarf are shouts of color

In this still life black and white

We talk of summer days—

Playing in the water

Rocks, moss and ferns

All that—the leaves and seeds and flowers

Are here in these bare trees, 

    in our memories

‘Neath the snow and ice

Promises to keep

My sister Elena and her husband Ron, my brother Tom and his wife, Thelma, my daughter, April and I took the Lost Creek hike this past weekend—the coldest weekend of the year. It was fabulous and amazing and a time to treasure.

- Nancy Perkins, February 2015

I'm in Love with the Moon

I don’t remember when I first declared my love to the moon

but I have been a faithful lover—through full and barely there.

I turn a corner and there she hangs

I shout my love aloud; or at least smile if others are close by.

A slice of light, she offers a golden seat in which

one could recline and read or simply gaze at passing stars.

At fullness, a brilliant orb around which I would

wrap my arms and press to my heart.

On wintry nights when she glows especially clear and bright

her glorious light warms my heart and soul.

And no words can describe the harvest moon

when she hangs in splendor on the horizon warm and yellow.

Some mornings she lingers pale and lovely,

inviting the sun to take her place.

And as he rises to his throne, she fades and finally disappears,

a lady-in-waiting for her return as queen of the night sky.

I found this part of a poem by Rumi, and it expresses so beautifully my love for the moon.

At night, I open the window
and ask the moon to come
and press its face against mine
breathe into me...

How beautiful is that imagery. It brings a smile to my face and joy to my heart.
Nancy (March 2015)

Gray Hair

Gray hairs lay like a frame around my face.
I gaze at them with some consternation.
Look at us, they say.
We are your life.
We are grief and trouble.
We are love and joy.
We are your children and your lover.
We tell your story.
We are your prayer.

Beneath the Bark

The bare trees
  with a few brown
  shriveled leaves
Pay no heed to
  their nakedness
  in winter's bitter cold
The branches
  still reach
  skyward
A prayer of thanks
  for what lies
  inside
A deep knowing
  of leaves
  and flowers
  and fruit

Humbled

I am humbled by the realization

of the connection between inspiration and place and space.

I may say that I have not lately been inspired,

but the other truth is that I have not lately entered into

a space where inspiration is invited.

Oh me!

Truth of a Moment

Looking through the open slats of the blind

I see a morning picture

slice by slice

Pink streaks in pale blue sky

smoke curling from a chimney

across the yard

Snow-covered roofs

bare tree branches.

In my quiet space

my hands hold the warm cup

and I taste the goodness of my

morning coffee.

I breathe in and out

and listen to silence.

I am filled with knowing

that God is here

and within

That is the truth of this moment

and it is sacred

and hallowed.

Silence

Silence presses in around me

Almost ringing in my ears

I feel a strange discomfort

Almost a need to escape

Have I become so attached to

noise and sound?

Are my senses seeking the

stimulation to which they've

become accustomed?

Silence battles science

And the war rages--even in me

A seeker of mindfulness

and meditation

The Morning Sun

The morning sun
finds its way
through winter sky
unwashed windows
and tilted shades
to my upturned face--
turning an ordinary
Saturday moment
into an extraordinary
winter gift.


My face is glowing from the sun,
a reflection in my heart
A reflection of Your love,
a circle--complete!