Solitude sets one to meditating upon poetry…

diving, through silence
the stillness awakens

A broken table
at the side of a pond
holds only memories

heavy hem
soft footfalls
startle the Sisken flock

by light eclipsing
shy blood moon

strangely warm
blood moon eclipses
a deer leaves the meadow

rosehips, ready
for hot tea

frost soaked hem
even sandal steps
startle the Sisken


Poetry from the Heart of Fall

diving silently
otter moves
the still water

picnic table perched
at the side of the pond ~
holding memories

wet skirt hem
even sandal steps
startle the Pine Sisken

holly may be bright
but once frosted
rosehips rival for redness

hem heavy with frost
sandals falling
startle a Sisken flock

laying under cover
let the dawn
colour the day

buried in blankets
a broken morning

wind chimes
cold and clear
snap to attention

the moon awakens
diffuse pink eclipses
no other

Are you having a good “Yoga Outside” season?

wind chimes
as summer hums along

Haiku-inspired poems at Summer Solstice

a Pileated Woodpecker


laughs from the woods

Hummingbirds dart

the wind shifts

distant thunder rumbles

daisies appear


a fawn is born

a bubbling moon

sails inside

the tightest crack

night of endless light

shifting seasons

eternal dawn

Spring Poems to Meditate upon

a wet bee

bobs along ~

the flowering thyme

a wind


the rain


sails inside

the mossy crack


in all directions

a measured performance

listen ~

the rain

is about to fade

young plum tree

flushed cheeks

roots run deep

Yogems = Yoga + Poems :)

slug with a mission

do you prefer

mushrooms iced?!

brown all around

but sacred cedar

a fragrant reminder

shedding outworn armour

habitual hell

yoga cools


could be snow

in the low light of dawn

Writing/Reading Poetry Helps Settle the Mind

west window sill
a spider crosses
the purple violets

rain pouring
still the sun
lightens the sky

hawthorn berries hang
ripe rosehips glisten
some colour remains

willow bends dripping
into the river
rain falls in a torrent

branches droop over
the pond on a grey day
reflects the sky

Consider approaching each moment with the wonder of a child

new year’s day

coming to

from a dream

new year’s day

shifting only slightly

a weathervane looks on

barren orchard

a flock of Siskens

rise all at once

beyond view

a bird makes waves

in a cold pond

a range of mountains

cut by evergreens

in each direction


in a light filled sky

the hint of a storm


If there are obstacles to meditation, then compose yourself in a comfortable spot near nature, and, sitting in stillness, notice how the tempo shifts, and then… …shifts again.

This is an important era to hone the ability to settle the mind and let logic go. Remember how to receive moments instead of problem-solving them. You’ll need nothing with you, literally. Forget about the pen & paper until later. Let haiku inspire the memory.

sideways rain

yet, the light sky

shows no storm

light grey

it’s just rain

which is fine


when the wind dwells

rattles the walls

unobserving christmas


the great liberation

by foot to work

and home again

by foot

branches that glisten

overhang the pond

rain still drops

Use all senses at your disposal, and recognize how they interpret, or shape the  surroundings. Can you look at the unfolding landscape with the eyes of an infant? Be fresh in this. In the subtle silences lie connections between what you perceive and the pulse of an undying cosmos.

Ancient calendars from advanced human civilizations have pointed to this time, this yuga, or epoch – as holding huge potential for growth. Combine it with understanding and you have an effective weapon. (Destructive forces will seem faint compared to the dynamo of creative potential).

Use insight to dispel fear. Insight can be gained most effectively through your own practice of meditation.

The exercise is for you. (Think only of the process of writing a short poem, and how the heart responds). Be witness to the process and you might glean a secret about the link between your life and the force of destiny.

Distill the essence of a moment and taste it

snow dusts the pathways

standing out

in the sun

first whack of the axe

sends birds

scattering from tree tops