Journal/ Day 5/ Switzerland Via Alpina

Switzerland 2022

July 5th

What lies in this unexpected place?
So fitting has been the night
wrapped in a blanket of dreams.
The images, already fading like
the stars, tuck themselves into
dawn’s vast array of colorful petals.

Awaiting your greeting,
I pause here.

Time after endless time,
it is you awaiting my greeting.
Your patience,
Your infinite ability to hold ‘space’
and, it is not a space that is
owned by anyone
—it is a shared,
an always changing spectacle.

Unfolding like flowers, wildflowers
strewn on a mountain’s pathway.
Spectrums of color face a sky
touching what only appears
at a distance.

There is no space keeping anything

The miles that bring me to these
lingering thoughts.

No matter where I am
—life blossoming
—the unknown calling out
to ‘space,’

Here I am,

       Here I am,

                   Here I am,

as I always have been.

Drops of Color/ The Curtain Sways

Drops of Color
The Curtain Sways

Waiting for an ‘image’
to appear.

Holding a timeless gaze.

Suddenly, a window

It’s open.

You have been here

Perhaps, You have been
all along?

This time the tempest
seeping through
PLAYS a new kind of song…

it begins from the ‘inside.’

Like the Pied Piper,
a solitary breath finds,
discovers, an opening
and plays through…

The curtain sways
Trusting its partner
to guide the dance.

Now, ‘outside’
every sentient being
waltzes on life’s stage
while stars glitter
igniting a Universe whispering,

“They are catching on.”

IF someone has shared this email with you, and you would like to receive
these Monday and Thursday missives, please visit:  to Subscribe.
Join in a wonderful bouquet of words, colorful artistry and intriguing photography.
Together, let us SEE life in its fullness.

Journal/ Day 4/ Switzerland Via Alpina

Switzerland 2022

July 4th


Rain falling upward
as clouds loom beneath me.
Mountains moved the sky
as the sun began its search
for a doorway.
Silence played itself so longingly,
I covered my ears.
Is this real?  Is this a fantasy?
Is this___________???
This is prayer…yes, it is what
words no longer invite in the moment.



The cascading waterfalls,
every pool of water~~~prayer,
living itself out loud.
No antiphon,
No refrain, no passages
—a rhapsody
—a musical unwritten
Note after note after note.

I ‘almost’ begin to cry.
To you, mid-wife, I give,
I offer
the essence of my ‘soles’ every step.

So often, stopping—I look, what’s to say?

All my words
throughout my lifetime,
have they meant anything?

If I cast them ‘into’ the subtle breeze
hovering on a hawk’s outstretched
Oh, if the majestic bird carried them all
Would I then grasp the meaning,
the fullness, the simplicity of

Drums begin to beat
—the vibration washes upon me like a
wave carried upon the sea.
Light imbues the space.  Now,
thunder beats upon drums
not only one, or two, or three, or

I cannot see the player.
I tap my foot…is this prayer?

Yes, yes, yes,
All these words.

I’m back above the clouds.
What I no longer see below,
gives prayer permission
to come to life.

A new Gospel,
Each of us a living testament.

I now close this prayer
In silence…

Good night

Drops of Color/ Poem

Drops of Color

Hidden beneath
a quilt
—patterns of colors
a poem.

Words blanketed in stitches
looking out
for unruffled moments.

A window gives way to stars.

A poem breathes
—a soft rise of blues,
greens, oranges, and yellows
fanned out 
highlighting the room.

The sun found its way
adding rays
—a blending of a Universe

a simple poem


Journal/ Day 2 and 3/Switzerland Via Alpina

Switzerland 2022

July 2nd & 3rd

The Doorway of Yesterday

—opens like a film.
A sequence of slides creates
held in one elaborate pane
—no specific storyline being written.

Within the womb of the plane,
the descent began
—a shade lifts…a first glance.
I see a blanket of white linens.
Underneath appear points of various
sizes…there is NO order.
Shadows linger expanding the horizon’s
line while a blue sea…is it
the sky?  A seamless wave rolls over
the ice crystals
—jagged peaks held in the sea of
glass offering this first revelation.

The mid-wife caresses her delicate fingers
over the soft crust of sleep’s crumbs
falling from my battered lashes.

Headfirst…the mid-wife laughs
aloud to herself.
She seems to say, ‘I knew you’d
never allow your feet to touch the
ground before you—LOOK!’

Now, I have been re-united—
joined, as if a twin-soul enters from
another womb.  A companion walks
beside me, with me, as so often in
the past, our steps discover NEW meaning.
Here we are.  The shattering of
time distancing us because a pandemic
now seems to gather all these cosmic
pieces together.
Everything fits. 
The doorway opens.  I see a window
of imperfections manifest into
a tale so beyond perfect
that the story birthing itself
starts with, ‘Once upon a time…’

I’m seated—
an altar before me.

Two angels appear…
they place bread, sparkling water,
smoked meat, laced cheese, tomatoes,
avocado, fresh mozzarella drizzled
oil and balsamic dressing before us.

The soft scent of basil lays
on the blessed dishes.
Sweet communion…savoring the
delicacies set before us…
A sharing of Gospels, each life,
speaking aloud a testament
never read before.
It becomes a part of the glass
tapestry casting this window.

We rise…the mid-wife takes
my hand.  Four of us,
like legs of One table, set out
into the streets, the highways & byways
of Old Town Zurich.  Thousands of
voices speaking aloud, cars & buses
—horns blaring.
There seems to be a ‘pitch’
measured and played.
Stepping to a rhythm writing
itself, we come to the river.

An array of sails holds the day’s
pleasant breeze.
There they are…the mountainous
terrain awaiting the ‘soles’
two of the four disciples gathered
in this moment.

We walked into a church—
Marc Chagall’s Windows, ALIVE.
As the sun shone, highlighting
colors entombed in glass and
Resurrecting the Cathedral of Creation,
A stained-glass window
Its only ‘break’
Which has yet to be revealed.

Drops of Color/The Sea and a Light House

Drops of Color
The Sea and a Light House

The sea said to the light house,
“Cast your radiance and we
shall carry it outward upon
our waves.”

The light house said to the sea,
“You stretch beyond any
conscious reach where
light and darkness
come together and bridge
any thought of a divide.”


Journal/Day 1 Switzerland Via Alpina

THIS day I begin the sharing of my Journal as I traversed the landscape of Switzerland’s Alps in 2022.
Enjoy the walk in the upcoming Thursdays of 2023…pray you’ll ‘fall’ in love with the scenery that has
planted its ‘wild’ flowers in my being.

Switzerland 2022

July 1- July 22nd, 2022

   The Via Alpina

 It doesn’t have to be
the blue iris, it could be
weeds in a vacant lot, or a few small stones; just
pay attention, then patch

 a few words together and don’t try
to make them elaborate, this isn’t
a contest but the doorway

 into thanks, and a silence in which
another voice may speak. 

                                 ~~~Mary Oliver
                                                                                                  July 1/Day 1 

A silence hovers
so still, calm and fluid is its movement.

A new dawn rose this morning—
a solitary feathered being settled itself
in the long, thin arms of the tree’s
naked branches…

The song being played through a parted
beak~~~timeless…the refrain, lifting
the dewy grasses rising to the pastel
sky, awaits the flame of life to
usher in DAY.

The tiny bird cares not who hears
—creating what is ‘inside’ itself
cannot/will not wait.  No audience

The One hovering in the Silence
pauses, breathes and sends a ripple
through my hair~~~ no other breeze
in the air.

A great heron holds a perch…
beckoning, breaching, until the pond
opens the doorway to a doe and two
soft white speckled fawns prance
at her side.

The Heron ushers in its becoming One
with the presiding unknown

Who, who is it joining me here
It has been years since I’ve boarded
the silver falcon with a million
frosted feathers.
Across the ‘pond,’ I will be carried.
Beside me, a host of others
find their way to who knows

I’m in a womb.
The silent presence has become
a mid-wife.  She’s been beside me
before I was conceived.
She does not pull me or push me.
Never has she prodded or tugged.
She hears me when I do not hear
or understand myself
and, she says, ‘This is Good.’

You, she speaks to my Soul, “You
have come upon a new doorway.
I’m going to show you things you have
never seen and, yes, reveal things you
have bore witness to.  Yet, your gaze
Shall be made new.”

“It is only hours away…
You will be birthed in the mountains. 
The Swiss Alps…
Hidden and revealed, you must wait.”
The latch on the door lifted.

Streams of water will be heard…do I hear them now?
Winds and thunder, creatures will speak.
Winged angels shall appear,
and ancestors past and present
shall speak…LISTEN.

My heart is beating like a harp
whose strings ring out, ‘play me,
play me, play me.’
Don’t worry about the sound.
Like this morning’s songbird
the dew’s grasses rise,
like the flame illuminating this day.
‘We’ are not burned by such wondrous
Light.  Like the Heroin perched on its
pulpit letting the congregation know
new life has joined the community
—small fawns, like children leap
and experience everything a first time.

She hovers…
She whispers.  This is a first time
and, your ending will bring you back to
face the NEWNESS for the child in you
to be reborn and begin again.

Drops of Color/ The Wild…

Drops of Color

The Wild…

A soft ‘yip’
met with a cajoling purr
—so nurturing, far from fierce.

Her paws, their tender pads
—the size of a catcher’s glove.

She nudges, prods, cradles
the kit closer and closer.

She draws her into the delicate
blanket of her laced
orange fur.

Mother and child
so affectionate
—come near her youngster
THIS ‘image’ changes immensely.

What would the wild teach us
regarding care for ‘our’ young?

Perhaps, the One who brought
all things into being
has placed a cushioned 
padding around our Souls.

Protecting, guarding, always loving…
yet not eliminating hardships.

Life holds risks as we venture
from our ‘dens’…

The wild has many lessons
to teach the tame Soul.


Strange Moments

Strange Moments

Strange, the moments
—that cling to us
—that lure us like bait dangling
from a hook, ‘come, taste, it is
right here.’

Seeing, yet not seeing
—something, someone approaches.
Hearing a subtle bending of leaves
—A crisp cackle followed by
a calming silence.

Rising like smoke from a fire,
a stately being appears
dressed in soft fur.

Through parted nostrils
—vapors from her breath
join spirit and matter
enveloping her created self
bringing to life
this moment.

Our intimate connection
—creature and human.

Nature nurturing a 
solemn moment.

She is a prayer
needing no words.

Drops of Color/ Open Heart

Drops of Color

Open Heart

Page after page,
words placed like canned goods
on shelves.

You choose the aisle
filled with chapters
delighting your appetite.

At times…a certain shelf
holds a paragraph.
It becomes a sheet of music
—You listen for a sound.

You read the sentences
over and over again.

Now, like a song,
you cannot get out of
your head,

verses enter your heart
open to a tune
longing to be heard.


There’s a poem in this place—

There’s a poem in this place—

I      cannot      find it!

Please, help me discover where it has gone!
It has vanished
like a magician running a wand
over this empty page.

How did I lose the words?
How did they slip from this paper
waiting, waiting, waiting
to be filled?

The ink drained from this writing
—empty, it falls cascading into an
endless abyss.

I attempt to capture a word, only one word
—my mind, my thoughts erased.

I’m plunging into another world…

Why now?
Why have you left me in this
no-man’s land?

I reach, both my arms extended…
help me Fly!

“NO”—deeper & deeper
I’m falling
like Alice in Wonderland
twirling down a rabbit hole…

It is so dark I cannot see.
My ears are absent to the sounds
all around me.
I touch the page, but feel nothing—
this space ‘hollow.’

Where are you, poem?

How can I write you without?
How can I write you without?

Without what?

Maybe this is a prayer?
The absence of words
trying to make sense of what no
longer rhymes?  I do not need a reason
to write.

I write for the very reason
that leaves me in utter silence.
Can I hold, can I breathe life
into a poetic space
that right NOW remains—Absent?

be still.

There’s a poem in this place.
Be quiet—
Be quiet—
the night is approaching.

For NOW—maybe, BE, the poem that
envelopes this place—

the poem, I have discovered in
each of You.


Drops of Color/ …to Love

Drops of Color

…to Love

like a drawbridge,
a lever releases a chain.
Each timely guarded notch
pulls to lift the mighty arms
of its structure

A lowly vessel below
begins to make its way.
The flow of the waters

A door,
like a bridge—‘opens.’
Hinges allow a sway
like the magic of butterfly

Listening, the sound
of a heart beats.
The pumping, artistic pulse
of muscle sustains

Love remains open.