The birds fly in the distance,
let them go,
along with your worries, goals, needs, and lists.

Let go the people who are hard to love,
may they return purified.
May you.

Release your grasp on jobs, relationships, fears, to-do's, your body,
and the way you want things to be.

Let your hands relax open and empty and feel the tingling sensation in your fingertips.
This is life flowing through.
Breathe into it.

May the life and love and light fill you;
may your open hands stay light;
may they lightly fill with that which is good.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2019

Last Morning of Solitude (Sonnet)

In my last morning of solitude, I
listen to the birds sing, they rustle the
trees as they jump from branch to branch, and my
heart sings in gratitude for my chance to be

here, now, sun shining, wind caressing me.
Drops from the recent rain reverberate
as the breeze drops them through the rustling leaves.
A hummingbird in the trees searches, too late,

for flowers on which to feast, and I hate
our lack of hospitality. The sky
is blue, the leaves a hint of gold in wait
for fall, they sparkle in the sun; I sigh

for joy. Raindrops glisten on the spider's
web like diamonds, the air, cleansed by rain, pure.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2019

The Air Grows Chill

The Yoshino cherry trees stand tall and full,
a few yellow leaves sprinkled like gray hairs
in their lush foliage.
When did they grow so old?
When did I?
The air grows chill.
Darkness approaches soon.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2019

Threshold Approaching

The hour of a hummingbird queue,
approaching dusk and feeding deer.
The after rain air is cool
and the first gold leaves appear
on the Yoshino cherry trees.
Approaching the threshold,
same sun, same bird songs,
but change is in the air.
The crickets hum, and the hummingbirds
buzz as they zoom past,
places to go, I guess.

Water drops hang upside down on the leaves
and a doe approaches, white tail flicking and nose twitching.
Darkness settles on the forest floor
but the woods are alive in sound.

Final hours of stillness before the dawn.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2019

Default to Life

You can feel the season changing,
dark of the moon into a new day morn.
The first golden leaf appears, and another.

Three plants survived the summer storms.
One proudly raises her lush leaves and blossoms to the sky.
One has the wild look of a boxer after winning a tough fight.
The last is beaten down in defeat, prostrated, but a lone red flower stretches up from the dragging debris.
She is my favorite, reaching for one more shot at the sun, default to life.

The bird flies,
blue peeks through the clouds,
sounds still,
and the breeze rustles the trees.

© Christine Salkin Davis, 2019

Every Morning It Feels New to Me

A leaf falls. A bird sings. A bee winds her way from flower to flower and the sun shines on the ivy carpeting the rhododendron thicket. How many times have I described this to you? Every morning it feels new to me. The same bees. The same birds. The same rhododendron blossoms bursting pink and white amidst their long-fingered leaves. The same mossy ground and the same dried leaves crunching underfoot, new life springing up, lead buds from the forest floor. The same blue sky and white puffy clouds and gentle breezes rustling the trees so they look as if they are dancing in time to the bird’s symphony. My eyes take in the greens on greens and baby blues and pink and white as I breathe in the musky smell of forest air  and I want to tell you about the yellow hairy caterpillar inching past  and the berry-colored flower petals reaching up  and the bird in the feeder fluttering her wings and eying me warily and the trees reverberating as the fleeing flock of birds flies away.
I wish for yo…

I Wish for you a Love That Takes Your Breath Away (Sonnet)

I wish for you a love that takes your breath away. 
On you to shine the morning sun; the birds to sing  for you. I wish much happiness for you today. I wish the rainy sky much flowers to you bring,
so many that they form your favorite bouquet. I wish you find the lovely life you want; take wing, explore, and love yourself; your beauty heart, the way your blushing skin and sparkling eyes in joy forth spring.
Ignore the insults, threats, indifferent stares, I pray -  small men who make you feel like objects or playthings, possess you not, do not control your fate. Inveigh against their caustic scorn; there is no need to cling
to them; I wish you truly knew what youare worth. I wish you million tons of happiness on earth. 
© Christine Salkin Davis, 2019