Monthly Archives: May 2025

The winds are soft and restless.

SIX QUATRAINS

AUTUMN
gold of amber
red of ember
brown of umber
all September

MCCOY CREEK
Over the bright shallows
now no flights of swallows.
Leaves of the sheltering willow
dangle thin and yellow.

OCTOBER
At four in the morning the west wind
moved in the leaves of the beech tree
with a long rush and patter of water,
first wave of the dark tide coming in.

SOLSTICE
On the longest night of all the year
in the forests up the hill,
the little owl spoke soft and clear
to bid the night be longer still.

THE WINDS OF MAY
are soft and restless
in their leafy garments
that rustle and sway
making every moment movement.

HAIL
The dogwood cowered under the thunder
and the lilacs burned like light itself
against the storm-black sky until the hail
whitened the grass with petals.

-Ursula K. Le Guin

Pippin Photo

The first proclamation, the first Gospel.

My patron saint is Joanna, one of the women who went to Christ’s tomb in order to anoint the body of the Lord with myrrh after His death on the Cross. She also heard from the angels the joyful proclamation of His Glorious Resurrection. She was the wife of Herod’s household steward Khouza (Χουζά) and she served the Lord during His public ministry, along with several other women. She is mentioned in Luke 8:3 and 24:10.

All of these women are commemorated on Myrrhbearers Sunday, which is the second Sunday after Pascha. I found this in a church bulletin:

“The Gospel states that the apostles were amazed by the word of the
women that Jesus was risen. ‘Yea, and certain women also of our company,
who were early at the sepulcher, made us astonished. And when they found
not His body, they came saying that they had also seen a vision of angels,
who said that He was alive.’ Before the Evangelists picked up their pens,
before the apostles walked to the far reaches of the Empire with the sermon,
before Peter proclaimed the good news to thousands on the day of
Pentecost, the myrrh-bearers brought to the apostles the first proclamation,
and the first sermon, and the first Gospel. We should also stand before them
with astonishment.”

Myrrhbearing women at the tomb

The smaller cousin of the sun.

THIS MORNING I PRAY FOR MY ENEMIES

And whom do I call my enemy?
An enemy must be worthy of engagement.
I turn in the direction of the sun and keep walking.
It’s the heart that asks the question, not my furious mind.
The heart is the smaller cousin of the sun.
It sees and knows everything.
It hears the gnashing even as it hears the blessing.
The door to the mind should only open from the heart.
An enemy who gets in, risks the danger of becoming a friend.

-Joy Harjo

The Sun, by Edvard Munch