Day Ending – Izeli
(Written in 1973 after meditation, sitting on the balcony at Izeli)
Jacaranda in full bloom,
points its branches to the setting sun.
Gentle breeze rains blossoms from on high
to carpet the earth with their purple dye. Heavy flapping of the cawing gulls
swallows in pairs dance in a race
Bright green light green shadows lengthening
White disk with a shimmering face. Dark green treetops turning yellow green
Olive lit hillside now to be seen
Tiny butterflies fluttering bye
Dust like dots of the minute fly
Here I sit and drink in the life
of nature and creatures
as the day is ending
I marvel and wonder at the life I see,
in a perfect rhythm of eternal blending.
Mary Mc Creath
Sunset Izeli
(written in 1973 after meditation sitting on a bench near where the animals were kept on Izeli farm.)
Light green, bright green,
bronze sun glittering.
Hoot coo, twittering.
Blue sky, dark sky,
night awakening.
Cool air, closed flowers,
day forsaking.
Clouds, low wispy,
edged with light,
fire disc shimmering.
Down,
down, and down
out of sight.
Bright horizon where there was a sun,
silhouette trees there when it’s gone.
Light edged clouds turning grey,
Night comes slowly at the end of the day.
Grunt from the pigsty here in sight,
Birds in the blue-sky flicker in flight.
Flies buzz around and get in the way,
Cows low contented munching the hay.
Leaves move gently, sway in the breeze,
Gull sounds moving over fields and trees.
Clouds turn golden from the sun that’s gone,
High pitched whistle of a bird’s
even ‘song.
Mary Mc Creath
Santa Maria Denver USA
(Written in 1978 after an outing while on sabbatical in Denver)
High hills, low vale
Green trees pointing
Blue sky, grey sky
People jaunting
Long trails, short trails
firs and aspen
tall grass, old stones
people basking
Still lake, smooth lake
Boats for rowing
Frisbee, baseball
People glowing.
Water gushing, swirling, birling
Wet rock, dry rock, curving hill
Birds singing
In cool air
People still.
Bark, stones
Path that wanders
On and on
Bridge that
Crosses water
Fountain that wets the dry stone,
Showing that it has another colour.
Cloud shadow
Darkening Santa Maria –
For a moment.
Stone scattered,
Bush scattered,
Tree scattered,
Hillside,
Receiving
the birds,
people who come to touch you,
climb you.
Tall, silent, dark green
Trees
Segregating the skyline
Gifts of today
Thank you
Mary Mc Creath |
The Rosary
(Wednesday 30th April 2008)Five strings of ten joined in a ring
A cross upon which Jesus died
Three bead reminders of the Trinity
From whence he came.An instrument to help me
Keep in touch
With God who came to earth
And lived like me.
A set of beads
Arranged in groups of ten
With one apart.
To open life with
All its mystery of one, Who lived and died
Upon this earth
Yet rose to live eternally.
Each group of ten
Would hold me in its sway.
To pierce a sorrow, joy or glorious time
Of one whose heart I lived within
And one who lived in mine.
For forty years and more I plied these beads
To touch the mysteries they could reveal.
Then one day I put them on the side
To live the mysteries in which I now abide.
In every birth, in every joy I see
The birth and joy of one who captured me
To live with him as each new bright day dawns
And die with him as each new bright day dawnsAnd die with him in every night that comes
To rise in hope with each new dawning day
No matter what the previous one did bring
To look at life eternal on this earth
And gasp in wonder as it doth unfold.
Mary Mc Creath
Have You Noticed
(Written after meditation sitting on my balcony in 2013)
Have you noticed
How branches of trees,
Dance and sway,
in the wind?
When the wind is gone,
the tree is still and silent.
The wind stirs life into them
Passes and is gone.
What stirs life into me,
moves me to dance and sway?
Mary Mc Creath
No Leaves No Birds
(Written in 2013, after reflection on the tree outside my balcony)
The birds have
fled and nestlings
Flown away
No company and
all-alone am I.
I stand here
With all my beauty gone
Uncovered, naked
Facing winter’s
Cold.
New strength
I draw from deep within
my roots
Till winter goes
Then I’ll again
Be dressed in fairest green.
My leaves will grow
and flowers will bloom again.
The weaverbirds
will come and make their home
Till fledglings fly once more
To warmer clime.
And I another
winter sleep will take
resting alone
no leaves, no birds
Mary Mc Creath |
