PEACH

Magnificent peach, hanging from your bough,

            just out of reach of the tips of my fingers,

            yet teasing my senses

With your color that captures and pleases my eye

like no other I’ve ever seen.

Except, perhaps, the glow of sunrise

with its soft yellows and oranges and ruby reds-

Not one bold statement, but rather a

            misty blending of hues that

            evades the artist’s stroke.

Just as to partake of the satisfying pleasure you give

            is a blending watercolor of sensual pleasure.

To touch you gives a fuzzy and comforting softness

            reminiscent of a favorite childhood blanket.

You are both soft and firm, sweet and tart,

            fuzzy and smooth as you fulfill your life purpose.

As I take you appreciatively between my teeth and

            hungrily devour you, your sweet juices quench my thirst as

            your distinct, yet subtle fragrance pleases my sense of smell.

I consume you, and I am replete.

Such a generous fruit to so pleasure

            the body, mind and soul.

Surely God must have been in the most mellow of moods

            at the moment of your creation.

Copyright © 9/4/2014 Lynn Ross

Outside my Window

Sun shining on magnificent green trees

Outlined against a background of blue.

Branches swaying gracefully in the breeze

Lush greenery shields my eyes from sordid city view.

This side of my ravine, mercifully shielded from the sight,

Is magically protected from the city’s sadder song

Of dismal, cracked, concrete signs of urban blight

And architecture gone terribly wrong.

From my humble oasis midst the barren and the bleak,

I cast my eyes above the colorless and the unadorned.

My soul finds the splendor of nature that I seek,

And I rise above the abandoned and forlorn.

©Lynn Ross

7/6/10

THEN THE LIGHT

THEN THE LIGHT!

Trees and sky in the ravine outside my window -

gray, glum, lifeless - blending together

into one smear of winter monotony.

Behold! A brief glimpse of sunlight!

And the picture is transformed into a bouquet

backdropped by light gray and blue.

Subtle colors hidden within the bleak scape come to life:

off-white, rich brown, green, charcoal and beige -

all reflected in what was barren trees.

A moment before only shades of dreariness,

then the light!

How magnificent is nature, and how it does speak to me!

~ Lynn Ross

©01-23-2012

Snow

SNOW

In Arkansas, a special treat,

when I was just a child.

My mother made “snow cream!”

If snow came at Christmas time,

and every year we prayed it would,

It was like the songs that romanticized

the illusive stuff.

But most often it was missing.

When I was grown, I traded the farm for

Memphis, Tennessee

to pursue my childhood dreams.

And the snow did fall there once,

14 inches of it in December 1963.

Minus 13 degrees! Unheard of!

And a brand-new international airport,

with jets that could neither take off nor land.

Snow plow? What’s that?

We were the laughingstock of the nation!

City buses and fair weather drivers

snarled traffic hopelessly,

and it was so exciting!

And over my ankle-high “winter” boots.

We simply waited for it to melt and

disappear in the next day or so.

Then I married a Yankee architect and moved to

a small town in a Pennsylvania valley.

And snow took on an entirely new meaning.

To me, the beautiful, white landscape made the

Dismal winters bearable, so clean and new,

and I had my very first sled ride!

But soon it became drifted-in driveways

and ice to fall on.

Frozen roof gutters and downspouts.

Icicles so beautiful yet treacherous,

a sign of trouble to come

with leaks and streaks on inside walls.

Heavy coats and boots became a burden.

And a first-grader who used her plastic book bag

as a sled to slide downhill to school!

Only endangerment to children’s lives

closed schools in Pennsylvania.

The winter of 1978-79 cured any of my remaining

romanticism toward snow,

A long driveway lined with snow too high

to throw shovels full of more snow atop.

Danger to little children walking to school,

crossing driveways with drivers

backing out blind due to the high piles of snow.

Watching the snow being hauled away in dump trucks.

But also a perfect back yard for two little girls to tunnel into

and build a snow house with the help of their baby sitter.

But lest my memory wane, enter the winter of 2013-14,

The current winter, the worst in 20 years,

a not-so-subtle reminder of how snow-weary one can become.

Snow: so beautiful to see from the inside of a cozy home, especially if you

know it will be gone in a few days.

Not so in the North!

Often the first snowfall is still there until the spring thaw.

This year I joyously welcomed Imbolc (Candlemass or Ground Hog Day)

and its promise of the Spring Equinox just around the corner.

The Wheel of Life turns, earth needs its time of rest,

and I must honor that.

But I long for the sprng of the year when new life comes forth.

Bring it on!

Lynn Ross

February 5, 2014

ODD SHOES

Although I’m a serious and intense Scorpio I have a great sense of humor, and through the years I have even learned to laugh at myself more and more as I become a typical old woman. In fact I sometimes wonder if I have any pride left. Nothing seems to embarrass me anymore.

In 2002 I was still in the workplace. This particular day I had been at work an hour, when I suddenly remembered I had a 9:15 a.m. appointment to get a flu shot.  Frantic to get to to my appointment in time, I dashed down the hall to the elevator and pressed the button. One of my co-workers who was already convinced that I was in the beginning stages of dementia said, “Do you know you have on different shoes?”  I glanced down to see a taupe shoe on my left foot and a black shoe on my right.  The shoes felt the same but looked entirely different, and the light in my bedroom was dim when I dressed for work.  Refusing to give my nemesis the satisfaction of seeing my embarrassment, I flashed her one of my biggest Southern smiles and thanked her for noticing. I ducked into the elevator while calling back to the receptionist as the doors closed, “I will be going home to change my shoe before I return to the office!”

Chuckling to myself, I wondered how many people would notice my odd shoes.  I made a game of watching for reactions.  More than a few people glanced down at my feet then pointedly avoided eye contact. I couldn’t help smiling at them. I'm tall - almost 5'10", and people naturally glance down to see how high my heels are.

I entered the doctor’s waiting room and there was no doubt that people noticed my feet.  I sat down and pulled my book out of my bag and started reading, all the time suppressing a giggle. I sneaked a glance now and then at those who were definitely noticing my feet as they pretended not to.  I couldn’t conceal a grin as I spied on them. I was tempted at one point to stand up, open my arms and announce, “You can all relax!  I know I have on odd shoes, and I’m okay with that!”

            When I was ushered into an examination room and sat down, I stuck out my legs, wiggled my feet, and asked the nurse, “Have you ever done this?”  Puzzled, she stared at my shoes and dissolved in hearty laughter, admitting that she had once done the same thing. Unfortunately she had been young at the time, and she was devastated.

            I got my shot and left. On leaving the clinic I  pushed the handle on the automatic door and started through.  I noticed a lady at the other set of doors waiting patiently for hers to open.  When she saw my example, she touched the handle to activate the doors.  She was obviously embarrassed and muttered something uncomplimentary about herself as she walked through.  When we were both outside, I commented, “At least your shoes match.”  At her confused look, I pointed to my feet.  She immediately burst into laughter.  We walked along giggling like school girls, trading jokes on ourselves like two old friends.  After we parted ways I silently wished that we could all laugh at ourselves more often and that others would laugh with us instead of at us.

Lynn Ross

December 20, 2002

The Changing Frame

Sacred trees surround my computer monitor,

A frame created by a window overlooking their ravine.

I gaze at that frame each time I sit at this amazing machine.

My favorite frame is green – lush verdure.

I drink it in and it nourishes my soul.

For a brief time in fall other favorite colors burst forth

to frolic before my eyes in autumn splendor.

Then, too soon, the trees stoically shed their brilliant colors,

dropping their leaves carelessly as if shaking off a burden.

The trees are ready for winter.  I am not.

The frame changes again to show trees without leaves,

revealing cold beauty.

And with this beauty melancholy plagues me, as

I anticipate a frame awash in shades of gray.

I gaze at the frame, picturing in my mind’s eye

the tender green of spring that is waiting to come forth.

I watch the trees as they rest, replenishing their strength.

I am impatient.  But the trees are wise.  They know.

Lynn Ross

October 14, 2010

YEAR'S END

Since my teens, I have felt a holy reverence at the passing of the old year and the birth of the new.

As I experience it, seeing the old year go is a bit like saying good-bye to a friend that I knew for awhile. It’s time for that friend to move on.  I know I’ll never see her or him again, but the short time that we spent together will continue to affect me in large and small ways.

I also feel an emptiness as the passing year slips into history. In many ways, the promise that was 2013 lies broken at my feet. The clean, white page of a year ago is now smudged - with sporadic, illegible scribbles marring its once pristine surface. There was so much more to be said, wasn’t there?

Alas, the new me I longed to become is still the same old one. I still weigh the same. I still look the same. I still think and act the same. My book still remains unwritten. And no matter how long I sat beneath the "bodhi tree," I still did not attain enlightenment!

I reflect on the passing year, contemplating the lessons within the mistakes. Then a sacred hush washes over me, cleansing me of regrets for unmet goals and broken promises, replacing them with an expectancy, an inner stirring, a hope that New Year 2014 will be better.

A fresh new page now lies before me, begging for my pen. Perhaps this time I will write more legibly, more poetically, with more integrity, with more patience and love for my fellow humans and with less judgment.

Again, I feel a familiar holy reverence at the passing of the old year and the birth of the new.

May your New Year be filled with the blessings of Love, Peace, and Joy!

Lynn Ross
January 1, 2014

May I add a link to a poem that truly gives holy and timeless meaning to the passing of the old year,
"Ring Out Wild Bells" by Alfred Lord Tennyson