I Couldn’t See the New Moon

The new moon
is invisible and dark,
like the chambers of my heart.
The inner music is quiet and glorious
and sustains me,
as she does the ocean tides.

In this silence
I return again to my inner
the longing
that brings me home
to myself,
the incantation of
the dark side of the moon
reminding me
of the inner way.

Such solace here,
and rest
and the revivification
of life
rooted deep
in the eternal spring.

I can flower again,
another season,
summer forthcoming
and I am
growing deep into
the truth of it.

Celebrating with the
Goldfinch, Oriole, and Mourning dove,
all arising again,
even my own spirit
sweetly turning toward the sun,
ready to begin again
the path unknown
yet beckoning
and I am willing.

I am here
for myself
on this good road,
and that is enough.
One more breath,
one more step,
one more day to flower.

~ New Moon Mandala May 22, 2020

~ Female Bullocks Oriole

~ Two days after the New Moon


If I came to you,

and you stroked my hair,

and caressed the side of my face,

all downy and soft.


Then whispers could happen ~

and I’d see in the iris of your eyes

every flight of birds,

all the summer’s butterflies,

and the jagged cliffs above the river ~

until we traveled

this world together.


You’d know me and speak my name

so softly

I could hear it in your

heart’s cave.

And together our gaze

could enflame tenderness to include love.


If I came to you.



Soft as Moonlight

Self is the

Transcendent ever-effulgent

burning light within,

Soft as moonlight

brilliant and accepting

of everything.

Powerful, expansive and

Love in a pure form

that embraces all

and the world

and the worlds beyond.


I bow to this seed of the Divine

in mine own heart.

So sweetly present

and all encompassing.

A loving gentle glance

containing the world.

So peaceful, and profound.



All images in this blog by Terry Dorvinen 
(TerryDorvinenPhotography.com) except the 
Western Tanager and Lightning.

A She-cat Visits

I awaken

the sleeptime is dark

but I just barely

see her outline.

Isabella has the form

of the panther,

her head sleek and rounded

ears back.

She is there,

but not there,

because panther visits

and lets me know

I am not walking alone.

Panther then moves

slowly toward me.

I feel the feather touch

of the whisker

so softly grazing my skin

it is alive and electric

with power held in form.

The ever-so-slight

touch of her face,

the damp breath

and kiss of a cat’s nose

a hair’s breadth

of blessing

so pure

I feel as if the moon

has just touched me.

Lost at Sea

Doesn’t it seem

if I could sail

and be gone from this world

to only the ocean’s embrace

That soon,

my thoughts

would flow freely out

into the open sea

and my mind

would empty

and be so clear

that only the sun sparkling diamonds

would touch my sight . . .

only the cries of gulls

would reach for my memories

only the brined salt air

would burnish my lungs

until I could only breathe

and speak of the ocean.

Tides would move me

as the moon willed

and the sea creatures

would accept me as their own.

April Wildness

The galleons move steadily, majestically

across the sky

unburdened by the past,

carrying only the weight

of a cloud’s creation.

They’re riding low

in the water,

obscuring the mountains

and bearing to the north.

There is no stopping

this forward movement.

Time itself would have to pause

and let the wind

catch its breath.

Than Here

This winter has been a time

of quietude.

The heavy snows

have kept me in

away from the ice;

an enforced solitude

that has brought me to the comfort

of peace.

Without my curious mind

craving learning,

I’ve had weeks

of no contact

and a strange

lessening of desire

for anything in the outer world.

I often sit here

by the window

in such contentment,

resting in the sweet


of not wanting

to be anywhere else

than here.


If loving God is the only pleasure,

how have I gone

so far afield

to seek you in every avenue

but Home.

How can I be so misguided?

How can I live

each day

strangling my fragile joys

in exchange for headaches

and deadlines,

guilt, pressures,

forgetting the unbounded

glory of love

with these paltry wanderings.

Where goest my heart now?

Gazing to another illusory delight.

Only nature is true

to me these days.

The wind and fierce cold,

the sky carrying

flagships of clouds.

The buttes singing

in their steadfast manifestness.

All that is truth.

My gaze need stray no more.




Myriads of seasons and joys

bring me to this sweet afternoon

where lilacs embrace me with the extravagance

of their perfume.

Such luxury.  A hundred thousand corollas

shine with their singular expression.

The softness of one,

joined in a chorus of scent

so profoundly moving.

I hear their chant

in my bones

and taste their nectar.

Thank you for this kiss of immortality

ever sweet,

every Spring,

your gift of love.

Western Tanager

I hear the whistle

before I see it.

All bright yellow with flashy black wings

and scarlet head covering.

I bow to your glorious

beauty that honors the divine.

Your colors sing to my heart.


I feel the rising up of joy

until my spirit flies with you.

I am above the trees too

and coursing straight and true

to the vast embrace of the sky

with every sky-born atom

pulsing with your breath.


I can barely

bring myself to breathe in

this exquisite blessing.


I am so alive with joy

I can’t think

I can only praise

and give thanks.