Beyond Quiet

by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

From bare branch to bare branch kingfishers weave the dry tick of their call through morning— as if sticks are rattling, as if stones are clattering— and whatever part of me that is longing for quiet is invited into the racket. I say I want peace, but what the heart really wants is to know itself as part of everything, to belong to the world of grinding and trilling, scolding and chattering, to knit itself into this raucous day, strident and so alive. — Opening poem chosen and read by Amy W.

Receiving Light

Atop skinny trunks

bearing chapters of char

new tufts of needles

like heads of untamed hair

burst into the light.

Many long leafs succumbed

in that understory burn,

feathery scars of scorch

outfit their now hollow selves–

some standing, some lying flat

their ending still a giving.

How unfair you say

how sad

and yet

the seeds of new

need the flame

to come alive.

——

May we rise too

finding what strong inside us

wants to grow,

survive the fire, or start

from ashes; 

may we too

trust the light

that’s always here 

calling us.

— Photos and poem by Amy Webb, February 24, 2024

Expectations… As I began my walk I was closely looking at trees, expecting to see and anticipating new growth that had emerged since our last WiW two weeks ago. I found myself to be “disappointed”… it has been so warm and sunny… why had the bountiful flora not advanced much further? As I paused, I realized that my expectations were totally getting in the way of being in the present moment and breathing in the incredible beauty and awe around me.

— Photos and reflection by Nancy L.