I stood and looked up at the sky
As gentle clouds flew slowly by
And silver flakes gently fell
Upon the trees where they would dwell.
The moon came out and in the end
I saw upon it the face of a friend.
(for Amy)
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
The Places I Am
Colorado!
You forever
Hold a place within me.
Tall, majestic mountains
Boardering vast, endless plains.
The place of my birth.
The resting place of my parents.
You are my beginning.
Wyoming!
Rolling sandhills
Covered with short-grass prairie
Butte canyons
Hiding expanses
Of green and gold beyond,
Shimmering in the breeze.
Endless skies,
And endless landscapes
Dotted by creatures
Both great and small.
The awe of your endless, empty lands
Takes my breath away.
Oregon!
Endless forests,
Deep, dark and green
Amidst mountains of
Fire and ice.
Sapphire lakes
Surrounded by ash, lava and obsidian.
Everyday is gently perfect
From pure blue skies
To whispering pines,
Star filled nights
Like those of my youth
Long estinguished elswhere
By man's polluting habits.
Gentle deer
Wandering freely, stand close by
Speaking of the quite gentleness
Found in this land.
Blue and white water,
Flowing through the veins
Of the earth here.
Pure snows
Fall quietly
Leaving behind a silent,
Christmas card world.
Everyday I wonder
What miricle
Has brought me here
Oregon!
You make my heart sing!
You forever
Hold a place within me.
Tall, majestic mountains
Boardering vast, endless plains.
The place of my birth.
The resting place of my parents.
You are my beginning.
Wyoming!
Rolling sandhills
Covered with short-grass prairie
Butte canyons
Hiding expanses
Of green and gold beyond,
Shimmering in the breeze.
Endless skies,
And endless landscapes
Dotted by creatures
Both great and small.
The awe of your endless, empty lands
Takes my breath away.
Oregon!
Endless forests,
Deep, dark and green
Amidst mountains of
Fire and ice.
Sapphire lakes
Surrounded by ash, lava and obsidian.
Everyday is gently perfect
From pure blue skies
To whispering pines,
Star filled nights
Like those of my youth
Long estinguished elswhere
By man's polluting habits.
Gentle deer
Wandering freely, stand close by
Speaking of the quite gentleness
Found in this land.
Blue and white water,
Flowing through the veins
Of the earth here.
Pure snows
Fall quietly
Leaving behind a silent,
Christmas card world.
Everyday I wonder
What miricle
Has brought me here
Oregon!
You make my heart sing!
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
The Story of Small Boy
by Lee Ann Forrester, Copyright Jan 2010
Small Boy sat by the river, tears ran down his cheeks as he watched the flow of the water around the rocks. His lips quivered as he thought of how every time he tried to play with the other boys he was torn to shreds by their mean words and actions. Small Boy wasn’t really his name. It was one he came to be known by because as a toddler he had become ill and as a result was smaller, frailer and less able to participate in all the rough games the others played. His mother always told him he would grow strong later, but for now he had a gift, one the others didn’t cultivate. It was partly why he sat even now, alone, letting the quiet earth and the noisy stream speak to him. It always felt better than the noise of the crowd. It was true he wanted to fit in but he also loved the simple quiet beauty of nature. It too, could be cruel and difficult, but there was always a reason for it and the Great Mother never seemed to pick on just one creature. If it snowed, everything in the area felt the snow, likewise the wind and the rain.
As Small Boy sat, a family of raccoons emerged from the area along the bank across from him. He watched as they ambled along the edge, the leader setting himself up as sentry while the others dug for roots and berries. As they gathered one took the roots to the water and to wet them and proceeded to take them to the sentry. Small Boy remembered that his Grandfather had showed him this before and explained that everyone has a respected place within the Raccoon People, that though the sentry didn’t provide the food he is fed first because his position as protector is so important to the others. He had done this to answer questions Little Boy had asked about why Great Bear, his father, did not hunt with the others, but they always brought his family meat before they took their own. Small Boy’s father was like the sentry. He provided the tribe with the visions of when and where to hunt, when to move camp for winter and summer or when an enemy was close. Great Bear was the sentry, the eyes and ears of the tribe.
Little Boy quietly studied a stone at his feet as he thought about Grandfather’s answer. He looked up and saw the sentry had seen him and had moved his family further downstream, his eyes fixed on Small Boy, assessing the threat he might pose. Small Boy got up and moved up stream to a place where the rocks had dammed the water and had created a quiet pool. Ducks and Geese paddle quietly on the shimmering water. A young swan paddled along gracefully. She swam to the shore and got out of the water. He laughed. As she did her long neck and large heavy body looked so awkward out of her water element. He thought about her. She was a creature who had several ways she could travel. She could fly through the air and touch Great Spirit and feel the support of the wind, or she could walk awkwardly along the earth or, as she did most of the time, swim gracefully upon the life blood of Mother Earth. She moved best on the still pools where she could see into the reflections of what was around her always moving between the vision of what she saw of the solid world to that of its mirrored reflection. He watched her, once again on the water, swim toward the late afternoon sun, its golden glow surrounded and framed her and then enveloped her form as if she had swam into its liquid gold and melted. Small Boy watched for her to return but it was as if she had been an illusion, a Spirit Bird. He pondered what he had seen. He remembered again the story of the Raccoon tribe and added the wisdom he had gained from the Swan.
“ We all have a place, and when we are in that place we are a graceful part of the whole.” Small Boy pondered his place. He felt he would never be a great warrior like his Grandfather had been. He was 10 summers and was still so small but, he, like his father, understood things. When he spent time like this he saw visions and understood their meaning
As he contemplated his vision a dragonfly began to dive and flit around him. It distracted him from his thoughts, and then it spoke to him.
“Small Boy!”
“Yes, Dragonfly!” He answered.
“So you see the illusion? Do you understand your place?”
It flitted off and continued to flit around, coming back to Small Boy every so often, its colorful wings changing as the golden light caught it from different angles.
Small Boy sat quietly. The animals he had seen that day had spoken to him. He looked at Dragonfly and saw illusion. He had lived with the illusion of growing big and strong and being a great warrior. He had feared his smallness, both in physical stature, but also he feared he would be small in the eyes of the People. He was afraid of being shamed because he would not be able to provide for his family if he could not hunt.
Dragonfly now hovered over him. Small Boy lifted his eyes to look at him. They shined with tears of joy.
“I see the illusion I have been living under,” he said.
Dragonfly dove once more beside him and hovered before him and then flew off into the gathering dusk.
Small Boy headed back to his father’s lodge. He could hear the sounds of the people preparing for night fall. He saw in the meadow a heard of Antelope. The larges male picked up his head and looked at Small Boy and spoke.
“You must now act upon what you have seen”
Small Boy Acknowledged Antelope and walked back to camp. His feet felt light and he felt taller and stronger. A burden had been lifted, from his shoulders making him stand taller. He walked with the authority of conviction through the camp to his father’s lodge. People looked at him differently or maybe he saw them differently. It seemed they looked at him with respect rather than scorn.
Shaking the rattle on his father’s lodge he asked permission to come in. His mother turned around and smiled. His father motioned for him to sit before the fire and waited for his son to speak.
“I am ready father.”
Today you are “Young Eagle” You have learned to fly.
Small Boy knew he had a place with his people.
Small Boy sat by the river, tears ran down his cheeks as he watched the flow of the water around the rocks. His lips quivered as he thought of how every time he tried to play with the other boys he was torn to shreds by their mean words and actions. Small Boy wasn’t really his name. It was one he came to be known by because as a toddler he had become ill and as a result was smaller, frailer and less able to participate in all the rough games the others played. His mother always told him he would grow strong later, but for now he had a gift, one the others didn’t cultivate. It was partly why he sat even now, alone, letting the quiet earth and the noisy stream speak to him. It always felt better than the noise of the crowd. It was true he wanted to fit in but he also loved the simple quiet beauty of nature. It too, could be cruel and difficult, but there was always a reason for it and the Great Mother never seemed to pick on just one creature. If it snowed, everything in the area felt the snow, likewise the wind and the rain.
As Small Boy sat, a family of raccoons emerged from the area along the bank across from him. He watched as they ambled along the edge, the leader setting himself up as sentry while the others dug for roots and berries. As they gathered one took the roots to the water and to wet them and proceeded to take them to the sentry. Small Boy remembered that his Grandfather had showed him this before and explained that everyone has a respected place within the Raccoon People, that though the sentry didn’t provide the food he is fed first because his position as protector is so important to the others. He had done this to answer questions Little Boy had asked about why Great Bear, his father, did not hunt with the others, but they always brought his family meat before they took their own. Small Boy’s father was like the sentry. He provided the tribe with the visions of when and where to hunt, when to move camp for winter and summer or when an enemy was close. Great Bear was the sentry, the eyes and ears of the tribe.
Little Boy quietly studied a stone at his feet as he thought about Grandfather’s answer. He looked up and saw the sentry had seen him and had moved his family further downstream, his eyes fixed on Small Boy, assessing the threat he might pose. Small Boy got up and moved up stream to a place where the rocks had dammed the water and had created a quiet pool. Ducks and Geese paddle quietly on the shimmering water. A young swan paddled along gracefully. She swam to the shore and got out of the water. He laughed. As she did her long neck and large heavy body looked so awkward out of her water element. He thought about her. She was a creature who had several ways she could travel. She could fly through the air and touch Great Spirit and feel the support of the wind, or she could walk awkwardly along the earth or, as she did most of the time, swim gracefully upon the life blood of Mother Earth. She moved best on the still pools where she could see into the reflections of what was around her always moving between the vision of what she saw of the solid world to that of its mirrored reflection. He watched her, once again on the water, swim toward the late afternoon sun, its golden glow surrounded and framed her and then enveloped her form as if she had swam into its liquid gold and melted. Small Boy watched for her to return but it was as if she had been an illusion, a Spirit Bird. He pondered what he had seen. He remembered again the story of the Raccoon tribe and added the wisdom he had gained from the Swan.
“ We all have a place, and when we are in that place we are a graceful part of the whole.” Small Boy pondered his place. He felt he would never be a great warrior like his Grandfather had been. He was 10 summers and was still so small but, he, like his father, understood things. When he spent time like this he saw visions and understood their meaning
As he contemplated his vision a dragonfly began to dive and flit around him. It distracted him from his thoughts, and then it spoke to him.
“Small Boy!”
“Yes, Dragonfly!” He answered.
“So you see the illusion? Do you understand your place?”
It flitted off and continued to flit around, coming back to Small Boy every so often, its colorful wings changing as the golden light caught it from different angles.
Small Boy sat quietly. The animals he had seen that day had spoken to him. He looked at Dragonfly and saw illusion. He had lived with the illusion of growing big and strong and being a great warrior. He had feared his smallness, both in physical stature, but also he feared he would be small in the eyes of the People. He was afraid of being shamed because he would not be able to provide for his family if he could not hunt.
Dragonfly now hovered over him. Small Boy lifted his eyes to look at him. They shined with tears of joy.
“I see the illusion I have been living under,” he said.
Dragonfly dove once more beside him and hovered before him and then flew off into the gathering dusk.
Small Boy headed back to his father’s lodge. He could hear the sounds of the people preparing for night fall. He saw in the meadow a heard of Antelope. The larges male picked up his head and looked at Small Boy and spoke.
“You must now act upon what you have seen”
Small Boy Acknowledged Antelope and walked back to camp. His feet felt light and he felt taller and stronger. A burden had been lifted, from his shoulders making him stand taller. He walked with the authority of conviction through the camp to his father’s lodge. People looked at him differently or maybe he saw them differently. It seemed they looked at him with respect rather than scorn.
Shaking the rattle on his father’s lodge he asked permission to come in. His mother turned around and smiled. His father motioned for him to sit before the fire and waited for his son to speak.
“I am ready father.”
Today you are “Young Eagle” You have learned to fly.
Small Boy knew he had a place with his people.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)