Bring on the Spring



May something small, green and beautiful grow

in your hearts


Rose Cook




Mothers, daughters…International Womens’ Day 🧡


Moon for Our Daughters       by Annie Finch


Moon that is linking our daughters’
Choices, and still more beginnings,
Threaded alive with our shadows,

These are our bodies’ own voices,
Powers of each of our bodies,
Threading, unbroken, begetting

Flowers from each of our bodies.
These are our spiraling borders
Carrying on your beginnings,

Chaining through shadows to daughters,
Moving beyond our beginnings,
Moon of our daughters, and mothers.


photo Rose Cook

The chance of humming…Rumi


standing on two logs in a river
might do all right floating with the current
while humming in the

if one log is tied to a camel,
who is also heading south along the bank – at the same pace –
all could still be well
with the

unless the camel
thinks he forgot something, and
abruptly turns upstream,


Most minds
do not live in the present
and can stick to a reasonable plan; most minds abruptly turn
and undermine the



~ Rumi
translation by Daniel Ladinsky
from Love Poems from God



photograph by Rose Cook

Keeping Quiet…let’s stop for a second


Keeping Quiet             by Pablo Neruda


Now we will count to twelve
and we will all keep still.

For once on the face of the earth
let’s not speak in any language,
let’s stop for one second,
and not move our arms so much.

It would be an exotic moment
without rush, without engines,
we would all be together
in a sudden strangeness.

Fishermen in the cold sea
would not harm whales
and the man gathering salt
would look at his hurt hands.

Those who prepare green wars,
wars with gas, wars with fire,
victory with no survivors,
would put on clean clothes
and walk about with their brothers
in the shade, doing nothing.

What I want should not be confused
with total inactivity.
Life is what it is about;
I want no truck with death.

If we were not so single-minded
about keeping our lives moving,
and for once could do nothing,
perhaps a huge silence
might interrupt this sadness
of never understanding ourselves
and of threatening ourselves with death.
Perhaps the earth can teach us
as when everything seems dead
and later proves to be alive.

Now I’ll count up to twelve
and you keep quiet and I will go.


photo Rose Cook