The Song Of Hawk

(A Channeled Poem.)


Circling Overhead,

I Look Down On The

Ravine Below.


The River Is Only A

Glimmer Where The

Sun Strikes Its



I Wheel &

Turn, Soar & Drift

On The Wind.


Climb To Still Higher Heights

Of The Clear Blue Sky; Delight

In The Feel of Pristine Clean

Air As It Ruffles My

Wings, Gusts Beyond Me.



Some Movement Below.


Swooping, I Make A

Direct Line for

The River; Powerful Wings

Upholding Me.


Beak Open –

Ready To Receive

What Earth Is Offering

Me for Food Today.


There Is No Fret,

No Worry.


Only The Everlasting

Peace Of the Clear

Blue Sky.


Flying, Wheeling,



Tousled &

Thrown By Gusting

Winds On Rain-

Drenched Days,


Only To Return To

Soar in Clear Blue

Skies Again.


I Know MySelf

At All Times



Taken Care Of By

The Divine Spirit Of Life

That Moves All Things.


The Circle Of Life




I Gladly Partake of

The Offering of


Given Me.


I Know My Own

Time To Be Nourishment

For Another Shall Come.


I Know My Time to

Return To The Soil

Will Come, Only

For Me To

Soar In The Sky



Life In A Physical Body:


All Is Joy.

All Is Wonder.

All Is Absurd.


Dazzling, Mystical, Magical.


All Is A Game.


In Each & Every Wind-Filled

Moment Life Is

Divine Perfection –


All Is Well.


I The Hawk Of The Clear Blue

Skies Beseech You:


Live Well

Love Well

Eat Well

Sleep Well


Sleep With A Clean Conscience

So Your Mind Will

Be Free.


Free To SOAR In Clear

Blue Skies.


Soar Dear 0nes; Fly.


Be Free Of The Chains You

Have Put On



Let Nothing – And


Nothing That Belongs

To You – Your Own

Thoughts, Words, Limiting

Ideas Of Who

Your Are & Your

Innate Potential –

Clip Your



You Were Made To



Allow Yourself To Be The ALL That You Are.






Soaring In The Sky.


Gliding On The Wind.




Giving YourSelf Over to Life.


Trusting In



Image courtesy of Chris Robbins on Pixabay.

Winter Sky

Birds flit wheel dart dive –
alight on bare branches to
observe the onset
of dusk; waxing moon rises
majestic in winter sky.

January Walk By The River

A whir of wings – ducks
in formation circle; break
the water’s surface
with a gentle “whoosh,” cleaving
v-shaped furrows in their wake.


Image courtesy of Free-Photos.

I Stand In Awe

I stand in awe
of beauty;

wonder at

the perfection of..

each tightly-
coiled spiral of
fern gracing
the forest
floor, lacy tendrils
extending from
its stem,

each crescendoing
wave that ebbs
and swells, a
crest of white
surging towards
the shore –
distinct unto
itself, and yet
undulating with
the pulse of
the entire ocean,

each bird in
flight against
the backdrop
of the ever-
changing sky;
wings cleaving
through air
with beauty,
grace and

each glint of
golden sunlight
greeting the
open expanse of
water, bestowing
glittering jewels
of light that
shimmer, gleam,
shiver, sheen
where the river
quivers and
against the
dark gray rocks,

each graceful
arch of green
bowing to the
ground – blades
of grass lined
with beadlets of
morning dew –
globes of light
mirroring the
world around,
heralds of
the day
being born,

each silent
sliver of
a transcendent
beauty all its
own, transforming
the dark velvet
night with its

each stroke of
color emblazoned
across the sky,
from fiery sunset
reds and deep
dusky purples to
the subtle
nuances of
light which
herald the
passage from
night to day
as dawn
breaks over
the horizon,

each tiny
seed – minute
as a grain
of sand –
holding within
the blueprint
for life
to grow,

each vibrantly-
hued sun-
flower, swaying
in the breeze,
turning towards
the light; its gift
of grace and
beauty bestowed
on all without
distinction or
want of anything
in return,


I stand in

Exultant at
the miraculous
ways Life

the Grace
and beauty
in each
of its

a never-
ebb and flow,

each – in its singular
perfection – a
portent, pointing
to the beyond,


made manifest

in physical form.

Image credit: Marion Beraudias.


Harbingers of Change

Image credit: etceterawork canvas prints available at

After weeks of my kerosene stove registering ‘Lo’ first thing, it was a pleasant surprise to discover that there wasn’t the same need to turn it on the moment my feet hit the floor this morning.

The chill from beneath the thin wooden floorboards wasn’t quite as pervasive as usual, but it still came as a surprise to see that the thermometer in the living room was registering a full 8 degrees!

Remember, this was before I’d even turned on a stove.

To set the scene a little better, I live in an old farmhouse in the depths of the Japanese countryside where, despite the relative harshness of the winters, the older houses were built solely to help their inhabitants survive the intensity of the hot and humid summers and are ill-equipped for the cold winter months. To be able to reach a hand out of bed and leave it there, walk the floors in my bed sock clad feet without immediately reaching for the stove in February is nothing short of a small miracle – one I intended to enjoy to the full.

Once breakfast had been eaten I donned my sunhat and sunglasses and ventured outside with my beloved four-legged friend.There was a smell of freshness in the air and I realised I really didn’t need my jacket.

Pimo, my dog, has aged a lot in the last year and we no longer go very far on our walks, which often end in me carrying her back to the house. Imagine my delight when having only gone a couple of hundred metres, I was greeted with the sight of three or four small bees drifting around by the germander speedwell that was slightly straggly after several weeks of being submerged under snow, but was now opening its delicate blue flowers to receive the warmth of the sun.

Snow was still lying in all the places the sun doesn’t normally reach but the river was glittering merrily, bathed in light; the breeze was gentle and warm; even the blueness of the sky had a softness about it and, to my astonishment, I had the good fortune to come across a ladybird no doubt tricked into venturing out of hibernation by the unseasonable warmth of the day.

Beautiful harbingers of spring which occasioned a quickening of my heart and a lightness in my step.

The rush of hope and gratitude I felt was made all the more intense by their contrast to the dazzling snowscapes, the ice-choked stream that leads down to the river, the monochrome mountains made of bare branches peeking through snow, and the chill in the air that penetrates my fleece-lined gloves that are all symbolic of the winter months here.

As anyone who has ever lived in a place with distinctive seasons knows, the beauty of each is enhanced by the one before.

And winter to spring, with its hint of new beginnings in the air and the outburst of nature in an explosion of life and colour, is my own personal favourite here in Nagano and breathes a special kind of delight into my heart.

I got home and opened my Facebook page to find a quote about life being a circle of happiness and sadness, hard times and good times and it seemed to fit so perfectly with the rhythm of the seasons that had just moments before been flooding my senses.

After the cold winter there comes the spring.

And, in the cyclic nature of the Universe, day is followed by night and then by day again; and, difficult as it can be to believe at the time, our sadness and hard times are not permanent fixtures but gradually make way for happiness and good times again.

I have seen the indisputability of this in my own life. From the depths of grief so great I feared I might never surface, I rode the wave of change and renewal and now know happiness again.

And just as some of winter is carried over into spring in torrenting rivers full of snowmelt, our sadness and hard times leave their lasting impression.

But the cycle of life is always seeking balance, and gradually restores happiness where once it could not be found.

I know it is not only myself who has rode the troughs the last few years. Our planet and many of us on it are going through giant upheavals in our lives, most preceded by a period of deep grief and pain.

My own experience of riding the troughs taught me that the only thing I could do was trust in this cyclic nature of life. Trust that better things are on their way and that I was being led to a better place.

To any of you who may currently be riding the troughs not the peaks, I implore you to trust in this same cyclic nature of life and your ability to heal, and keep an eye out for the signs that better things are on their way.

Like the improbable bees and the ladybird the harbingers of spring, what harbingers of possibility can you find showing up in your life today?

At Twilight in Winter

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Sheen of lustrous moon

in a pale blue winter sky.

Twilight lingers as

dusk surrenders to blanket

of white. World steeped in stillness.

Jan 1, 2016

This tanka I composed while walking my dog around midnight on January 1st seems like a beautiful promise of things to come in 2016.

I’d like to share it here, and also take this opportunity to wish you all a year in which light glimmers even in the darkest shadows and you revel in an abundance of such magical moments.


Jan 1, 2016 tanka


Under the light of

half moon and stars in the deep

chill of winter night,

frost-studded grass glimmers like

quartz – transforms, transmutes, transcends.


Autumn’s Resplendence

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The trees shed their leaves

crowned in a halo of gold –

winter on its way.

Savoring The Last of Summer’s Tokens

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The equinox long

past, summer’s splendour lingers

on, hues slow to fade.

Around the Time of the Autumnal Equinox…

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Luminous yellow-

green of ripened fields of rice,

breath of autumn air.