Time

 

Our days are full with time.

Time: the movement of our lives, the secret of our sleep, the mystery of our memory.

Without time we could not dance, nor sing, nor tell the stories of our age.

Time is change - one moment from and to the next, the force we sense our life is lived within.

With time we heal, we hope, we love.

A Change of Song

 

I hear the song of my friend of many years. That such a fragile living thing, a blackbird, can live through season upon season, through storm and snow, through the dry hot months of summer is as much a wonder to me as gazing up towards the canopy of a giant redwood tree.

Blackbird perches outside my window where I work at dawn. His tune transforms from one year to the next. I have come to love this change rather than yearn for the song that filled our past.

Hope In This Our Time Of Loss

 

We share a breath of all things dark in this our time of loss,
With sadness spent, with silence, still, as we are left alone to work the soil of our unrest.
The laughter of their day, the beauty of their night.
Fill, fold the world with love in honour of their life.