Morning Trip (248)

“November – with uncanny witchery in its changed trees. With murky red sunsets flaming in smoky crimson behind the westering hills. With dear days when the austere woods were beautiful and gracious in a dignified serenity of folded hands and closed eyes – days full of a fine, pale sunshine that sifted through the late, leafless gold of the juniper-trees and glimmered among the grey beeches, lighting up evergreen banks of moss and washing the colonnades of the pines. Days with a high-sprung sky of flawless turquoise. Days when an exquisite melancholy seemed to hang over the landscape and dream about the lake. But days, too, of the wild blackness of great autumn storms, followed by dank, wet, streaming nights when there was witch-laughter in the pines and fitful moans among the mainland trees.”
–Lucy Maud Montgomery

Morning Trip (20) psst…Joy and Enchantment!!

Our gift is to be joyful and glad. Holding the enchantment of the miracle of each moment of each living breath that we experience, as the best moment ever, creates and sustains life!

Part II(Original Version: Loreena McKennitt-To the Fairies they Draw Near “Tinkerbell”)

Come away with me now to the sky
Up o’er the hills and the sea
Far beyond where memories lie
To a place where I’m free to be me

Oh, gather ye now one and all
No what matter what all ye may do
Where the stars fill your soul
When the moon cradles all
So to yourself be true

The blanket of snow is o’ercome
Each flower waits for the sun
And the whispering tears of the rain
Holds promise for everyone

Then come away with me, friends
No matter where you call your home
With a light in our hearts, we will never part
No matter how far we roam

Deep in the forest we go
Creatures are all fast asleep
With a kiss and a wink we will waken our souls
Love is the safety we’ll keep

And then we’ll dance through the night
Till the sun beams sparkle at dawn
And up way we will go like last winter’s snow
Soon our work will be done

Oh, gather ye now one and all
No what matter what all ye may do
Where the stars fill your soul
When the moon cradles all
So to yourself be true

Oh, gather ye now one and all
No what matter what all ye may do
Where the stars fill your soul
When the moon cradles all
So to yourself be true

So to yourself be true…

Native Trees by W.S. Merwin

Native Trees

by W. S. Merwin
Neither my father nor my mother knew
the names of the trees
where I was born
what is that
I asked and my
father and mother did not
hear they did not look where I pointed
surfaces of furniture held
the attention of their fingers
and across the room they could watch
walls they had forgotten
where there were no questions
no voices and no shade

Were there trees
where they were children
where I had not been
I asked
were there trees in those places
where my father and my mother were born
and in that time did
my father and my mother see them
and when they said yes it meant
they did not remember
What were they I asked what were they
but both my father and my mother
said they never knew

W. S. Merwin, “Native Trees” from The Rain in the Trees (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1988). Copyright © 1988 by W. S. Merwin. Reprinted with the permission of The Wylie Agency, Inc.