If you want to keep your frequency high

It’s best to not fall prey to reactive states

But with the reversal of roe vs wade

I pulled my shirt off twice in one day

It was an automatic response

Claiming- this body is mine

This sacred body is mine.

Maybe this is not the debate though

My sisters who are celebrating today

The unwanted fetuses that will come to term

Feeling in their hearts a victory

Proclaiming more life!

So as you can see there is

No consensus between us

Just a mad swinging pendulum

Impossible to dodge.

Is there a united ( states)?

I think we are starting from scratch.

My odd and wonderous friend

Is quitting Colorado…

Flying over to France tonight.

She brought me her honey collection

Radish Flower, Chestnut Honey from Italy

Lychee Blossom gathered in Java

All sizes of jars- some stickie

I’d promised her mom,

Who died 24 years ago….

I’d look after her daughter

We’ve had a steep journey but

Love and commitment transport

To where the roses bloom.

Laughing at fate

Honey, the food of God

Gifted me by her mother.

In the season of ripening strawberries.

It’s a Moon- Dwarf Eris trine

And my lunation is whispering….

Maverick suggestions like….go

Take your shirt off in front of Congress

To renew “our” vow to life.

Breasts mean life

and guns mean death!

Maybe we can gather locally first

to practice- want to ladies?

He was wild

Engines reeved in cowboy hat

Griffin by name, son of Planet Bluegrass!

We are a small town

Gone tribal due to recent events.

The death of a young one

A wrong move on his motorcycle

No helmet.

At his service we stood next to Joe

our town Chiropractor…..

” I x- rayed him a lot as a kid”

We need our wild ones

In coming asteroids

Huge impact

No way to duck and cover.

John’s truck is loaded

With colorful shapes of painted steel tubing

In route to Denver, Talk to the Birds…

A commission won three years ago.

Jacques and Lucien follow behind

Carrying the pre-formed foundation

Picks and shovels.

Lucien (17) will do the digging

And I am the chronicler,

A witness to wild will and determination,

These 10 years, a second career

John King, Kinetic Artist.

Sculptures that turn out of the wind

Just enough to not shatter

But still active in the lightest breeze.

This is John’s last sculpture,

Did we pull it off- this heist?

Profiting freedom ( of expression)

The highest value of the land?

Like two desperados we ride

Over the baked earth

Not sure if they are still chasing us

Or have given up.

Ya- Hooo!

I

How lovely, how perfect

Such grace and ease

Take a peek – we.

I had a power dream

The morning of my 72d birthday.

A wild insight

An odd happiness

This is what I got…

That it’s almost impossible

For soul to get all the way through here

Soul is present and smiling (sort of)

But basically not expressible by us

( We don’t know that it’s possible)

So everybody is off the hook..

In case you were judging anyone….

The density of the thought forms here

Is thick, (created by our joint minds)

But oddly all is well

This aspect of us

Is humming along

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But when I give a nod in her direction

This eternal part of myself

“feeds me-she doesn’t need me”

(Sounds like a Mick Jagger song )

My brother has covid

He’s ok, I just talked with him.

He’s taking some drug

that tastes like metal

( Is this a good Idea?)

My friend, (under maximum surveillance)

With advanced dementia

Is turning 80 in June.

(He has said he didn’t want to live past 80)

His sister, Lois

Has sent out a plea,

Asking his friends

To psychically let him know

That it’s ok to go on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

First light finds me walking

Around the ponds…..

( Water is so helpful)

A morning dove, a rabbit …

five goslings making their way to the shore.

But it’s the illuminous osprey

Diving into the cold water

That becomes my wish for Gary

That kind of freedom, that kind of air

A victory, a flight, a fish.

( I’ll meet you there)

Seeds planted in the winter

Reach toward the light.

Seeds inspire, so tiny and full of might

Torn between my anger ( at our Supreme Court Judges)

(I’m completely rattled by this news)

And my broader view

Of the necessity for things to get worse before they get better.

Knowing too, that I need to calm my racing heart

And extend a lily to the person next to me

No matter what their view point is.

And if I can’t do this then I have no peace

No power either.

We women shoulder the great burden

Of consciousness at this time.

Large times- Wild women Wise.

This song goes out to you

“Boundless Love”

“I woke up this morning

to a garbage truck

Looks like this horseshoe’s

Run out of luck

If I came home

Would you let me in?

Fry me a porkchop

And forgive my sin?

“Surround me with your endless love

Confound me with your endless love

I was drowning in the sea

Lost as I could be

When you found me

With your boundless love!”

John Prine, songwriter

My sister Jan, heart writer!