Scarlet Cherry Tree

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Picture: Red Autumn Tree Of Life by Christine Bell

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Ablaze in the rain,

Burning cold

At the foothills of the stronghold,

No leaf sprouts in vain.

October showcases its trinkets,

While clouds of milk spread in the teacups.

Tree, standing in my mind, coming back in brackets,

Lively, dancing, delicate in the downs, light in the ups.

The gardens breathe through Me,

All labels are soaked and shredded in the rain,

There’s only space for Thee

Beyond the veil of pleasure and pain.

Teach me, oh, teach me,

The art of shifting seasons,

Transcending the small me,

In the language of the unspoken Reasons.

Ablaze in the rain,

Growing young and old,

Simultaneously unfold

Death, birth, and all things mundane.

The Source of creation is everywhere around you

And within

Each and every subatomic particle.

Surrender to Yourself.

 

Herons

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Follow The Fox

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Picture: Sun Fox by Crista Forest

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Alert.

You call me out

And deliver your message.

Untamed dog, silent as the night,

Whisky-ambered,

Unseen and unforeseen citizen

Of Edinburgh.

No memories of the jolly forest

And its domestic fragrances;

No worries for the metal boulders

Sliding loudly on the cold pavement.

You’re only here

And now.

Weird lights radiate yellow and orange;

Humans stroll around

In search of spirits,

In order to lift their spirits.

“Align to your wild intuition,”

You tell me.

“Be here,”

You tell me.

“And follow me

To the last drop of blood pumped in your heart,

And beyond.”

 

Herons

Let Yourself Go, Let Go Of Yourself

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Picture by Mark Berger

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Let yourself go,

You’re a speckle of cosmic dust.

Don’t buy the scam of your mind:

Big deals for sale,

Cheap tailored drama series,

Ancient tales of separation.

Let me tell you,

What the mind says is not a big deal after all.

Give Universal intelligence permission

To overthrow

The small, limited you.

Let go of yourself,

Let go of who you think you are.

Silence:

Amidst the traffic horns,

The city wandering crowd,

The rolling of the cars,

The ambulance crying out loud.

Silence underneath all sounds,

That is who You really are.

 

Herons

Willow Mirror

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Picture by Debra Bucci

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Flexibility.

In my plans, I learn to grow flexible, like you do.

Energy in motion.

In my feeling, I learn to dance with the storms, like you do.

Nourishment.

In my thirst, I learn to drink from the River, like you do.

 

Riding my bicycle like a knight-errant,

By the breeze of a late-summer evening,

I look and behold.

Shades unfold,

Sunset lights burst, evening

The surfaces of creation’s night errand.

 

I notice your perfect portrait,

Painted on the river…

Maybe, reality is a mirror as well.

Maybe, you can choose to feel well,

Attuning to energies that quiver

At higher frequencies, by Nature’s portrait.

 

Willow tree, beloved, native kindred,

With common oaks, white poplars and linden,

You fill my heart and teach me by example

To be brave, resilient and humble.

 

Herons

Italian Stone Pine

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Picture by J. M. W. Turner

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Tears flow before my speechless mind.

Before the vivid silhouette of a pine,

I choose to let go of my limited sight.

Beyond the noise of judgment,

Experience strips off its garment

Of labels and old patterns.

Stone pine, brother of mine,

In the land of cypress, hackberry, and lime,

Hold me tight in your branches,

Ground me so I can reach the sky.

 

Herons

 

Rowan Tree (罗恩树)

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Embroidery by Lili Jahilo

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Your children,  sleigh-bells,

Ring red, orange and sharp;

It’s Christmas every day.

You stand tall, my little friend;

Ash, beech and oak, your giant tribe folk,

Respect your trade and your grave.

Feasts of butterflies,

Busy bees and flies,

Loyal bird-midwives.

In essence,

The whole forest thrives.

 

When you stop trying to solve the mystery,

You become it.

Birds and butterflies,

Bees and flies,

Rain and trenches,

Leaves and branches.

In essence,

You become You,

One with everything.

Luō ēn shù.

 

Herons

Mulberry Tree (桑树)

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Picture by Vincent Van Gogh

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So sweet are your children,

So far is your image

In the past, in the future…

Here and now I summon you,

Mulberry tree.

Some might not see it,

Some might not admit it.

Some might not taste

The texture, mild flavour, and aftertaste

Of those red, lilac, purple and black

Jewels, dangling from your canopy-rack,

Mulberry tree.

But I do,

You know, I do.

And so do you.

Sāngshù.

 

Herons

 

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By the way check out this amazing song by Dylan Ryche.