quiet blooms…

Quiet blooms
in the company of birdsong
the steady breathing of my partner
and all my cares
and placed in their containers
some neat, others spilling forth
to catch at my attention.

In quiet I resist
those that bubble up too noisily
and look instead
to cherish
the care that needs me most.

the old anxiety
that I might not be loved enough
with particular tenderness
I render its worry


the shaft of something
penetrating deep
like sunlight
on an April autumn day

how each of my unworldly gifts
may count
as more than gorgeous nothings

in this great world
which lies within
which spreads outside outside
maternal curve of our own sphere

this sun
which shines its naming light
these fixed and moving stars obscured
they chorus now
in silence eloquent
reminding me
I am a child of cosmos

and closer now
the parsley feathers brave new leaves
the violet offers petals dark and
cautious distant fragrance
the nectarine releases curves
of late strewn golden leaf

the scrubwrens scold from greenery
and antechinus feast on alate termites
with folded wings before me
in search of some new home

while I
with all my small and delicate gifts
I seek benevolent sovereignty
within my high and broad
my slender and substantial realm

Tanya Coburn

you can listen to me read Sovereign a couple of times
The antechinus in action

over the phone

Over my outdated corded landline, my dear friend, Berta read me a poem she translated from German. We are keeping distant as she’s 96 and can suffer from weakness in her lungs. I can’t recall the exact words but it was a series of reminders repeated over and over. They were paradoxes. Never forget our uniqueness AND what we share; our isolation AND our connection.

Continue reading “over the phone”

turning the corner

Some shed surface,
some knot that is untangled,
some thought we can dismiss,
a way of looking
that distorts the world
we can relinquish
and let a liquid washing through of light
leave us ready
to turn the corner
look at the unknown
as though it were a friend of ours
wearing a fresh hat,
imperfect as yesterday,
offering us tea
and the wise choice
we couldn’t make before.

Tanya Coburn

I’m reading the poem here (a couple of times)

a ritual to welcome serendipity

At our house, we have a ritual that we practice almost every morning.

It started with a pack of ‘Inner Beauty’ cards, that a friend gave me many years ago. They are kept in a small wooden box. I used to select one or more every now and then, or use them with groups or friends, but then my partner and I began to create a ritual with them. We chose three.

Three inner qualities. Every day.

Continue reading “a ritual to welcome serendipity”