Feathers & Birches

I awoke to two e-mails that inspired me to write a—never sure what to call it as I am no poet— so I will just say—a stream of consciousness.
MY CREATION’S now free
It’s roaming on it’s own
Waiting in the universe
To find a home
The beauties that abound
Looking beyond the skin
To that deep soul within
WE ARE all one tiny spark
From the same Power Source
Can we grasp our sameness
Open THOSE eyes, then—of course!
THOSE EARS that hear
Tune them to mystery
They know our plight
MIRACLES belong to you
Ask, and He will do
KNOW our soul lives into eternity
Death is but a transition
There is no end.



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11 Replies to “Feathers & Birches”

    1. Thank you bunches Florence (my Mom’s name, my grandma’s na,
      Me, my aunt’s name and my middle name!). When I saw your name for a moment I thought it was Mom who died 33 years ago this month!


  1. Marg,

    For awhile I’ve been sensing the activity and energy surrounding your creation. I liken it to once a chick, now a fledgling. You have accepted your assignment and lovingly listened to the guidance given. Now the Winds of the Universe will give flight. While the bird may roam, it will also soar as it finds many homes – lives touched by the words – lives you may never know.

    This morning I languished in bed, reading the daily news and was lightened to receive your nudge. Reading Roaming, gave me pause as your words do. I briefly began to express the feelings of my own unrest. In describing my world, I used the word “rail”, but to be accurate, I looked up the definition of rail – there are many – I was so amused when I discovered the following:

    The rails are a family of small to medium-sized, ground-living birds. The wings of all rails are short and rounded (that would describe my form). The flight of those Rallidae able to fly, while not powerful, can be sustained for long periods of time, and many species migrate annually. The weakness of their flight, however, means they are easily blown off course (that would be me some days), thus are common vagrants, a characteristic that has led them to colonize many isolated oceanic islands.

    The words in Rail touched me. LISTEN. I do when I hear that gentle voice “don’t judge, the person before you has a spark – sense it”. ASK … all sought by me is to seek mystery, accept my assignments (stop railing against them) and I do ask for JOY.

    The last words … Death … true, vast, unfathomable – a Wonder.

    Do you know the poems of Mary Oliver? She just entered the unseen world.

    With love.

    Your nest mate


    1. Mary we are “birds of a feather” I am the chattering blue jay who seeks solitude – you are the roaming experimenter (exploring all life has to offer) ——- you, my vagrant rail are a master of words — you write beautifully -you dig so deep in your soul. I love your imagery and where your vagrant thoughts wander —- you need a room for these beautiful words —- find your room (nest)


  2. Well, first you are a poet – regardless of what you call your style. It’s beautiful.

    I am just about to order your book for Donna. Beautiful day here with sun and cold. Had a great walk as sidewalks were well plowed and salted so I didn’t kill myself on ice.
    Have a good one,
    Love Olive,xx

    Sent from my iPad


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