Pasture Poetry

horse and coyote                                                             photo image by bev

As I was preparing to write the next post on the Journey to Surrender, I decided first to wash a few windows in the studio above the barn where I’m writing. It’s a comforting space with windows on three sides looking out on a panoramic view of green pastures which gather around all 3 sides where the horses graze leisurely.

While washing the windows, I see an old coyote walking across the pasture in the distance. If my eyes don’t belie me, I think she’s a she who visits quite regularly, though we’ve referred to her naively as he. But today I notice that she squatted in the tall grasses just like my female dog does when I take her outside before bedtime.

In the spring winds, the grasses ripple in waves up the hill tantalizing my imagination that some unseen beings, perhaps ancient monks in long robes are chanting their prayers as they walk through the pastures leaving only the movement of the grasses as a hint of their presence.

The swallows are trilling their tweet-a-tweet chatter in chorus as they flit back and forth, first hovering on the wave of the wind and then dive bombing for a mouth full of insects to carry back to their nests above the balcony.  A red-winged blackbird pauses briefly on the fence below and a raven flies high in the distance, engaged in the traditional battle between large birds and the small ones whose nests have been raided. An orange breasted bluebird teases me with a quick glimpse then flies away before I can linger with him.

Idyllic you say? Yes. It’s been mostly good here where I’ve done my work with the horses, or rather they with me. My heart is filled with gratitude for this time, and for this place.

The windows are clean revealing the beauty of old glass with its rippled distortions like the warm patina on a primitive antique. And now it’s time to write my next post on the Journey into Surrender.


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