To the New Year by W.S. Merwin

With what stillness at last

you appear in the valley

your first sunlight reaching down

to touch the tips of a few

high leaves that do not stir

as though they had not noticed

and did not know you at all

then the voice of a dove calls

from far away in itself

to the hush of the morning

so this is the sound of you

here and now whether or not

anyone hears it this is

where we have come with our age

our knowledge such as it is

and our hopes such as they are

invisible before us

untouched and still possible

The Darkling Thrush by Thomas Hardy

I leant upon a coppice gate      When Frost was spectre-gray, And Winter's dregs made desolate     The weakening eye of day. The tangled bine-stems scored the sky     Like strings of broken lyres, And all mankind that haunted nigh     Had sought their household fires. The land's sharp features seemed to be     The Century's corpse outleant, His crypt the cloudy canopy,     The wind his death-lament. The ancient pulse of germ and birth     Was shrunken hard and dry, And every spirit upon earth     Seemed fervourless as I. At once a voice arose among     The bleak twigs overhead In a full-hearted evensong     Of joy illimited; An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,     In blast-beruffled plume, Had chosen thus to fling his soul     Upon the growing gloom. So little cause for carolings     Of such ecstatic sound Was written on terrestrial things     Afar or nigh around, That I could think there trembled through     His happy good-night air Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew     And I was unaware.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!

I remember Christmas lights...

I remember Christmas lights! The ones that got hot and were unsafe before we knew they were. They were my favorite thing about the Christmas trees of my childhood. I could lose myself in the bright colorful lights, especially if I squinted and expanded the brightness in my field of sight. It was almost hypnotic. There were also the foil reflectors that accompanied some of the lights - not enough for all of them but for just a few that made those lights extra-special. Today there are more and more lights available to those wanting them - many pretty styles including the vintage shape and colors of the ones I recall; but today they remain cool and are no longer unsafe. But there was just something about those lights of the '50s and '60s!

Do not forget or nothing will ever change!

Pray for Newtown

Pray for Newtown, and pray for sanity to overcome the insanity of gun violence in this country. How many more have to die?

For a Hopeful Holliday Season!

May Sarton, December Moon

"Before going to bed
After a fall of snow
I look out on the field
Shining there in the moonlight
So calm, untouched and white
Snow silence fills my head
After I leave the window.

Hours later near dawn
When I look down again
The whole landscape has changed
The perfect surface gone
Criss-crossed and written on
where the wild creatures ranged
while the moon rose and shone.

why did my dog not bark?
Why did I hear no sound
There on the snow-locked ground
In the tumultuous dark?

How much can come, how much can go
When the December moon is bright,
What worlds of play we'll never know
Sleeping away the cold white night
After a fall of snow."  

Linda Pastan, The Letter

"It is December in the garden,
an early winter here, with snow
already hiding my worst offenses --
the places I disturbed your moss
with my heavy boots; the corner
where I planted in too deep a hole
the now stricken hawthorne: crystals
hanging from its icy branches
are the only flowers it will know.

When did solitude become
mere loneliness and the sounds
of birds at the feeder seem
not like a calibrated music
but the discordant dialects
of strangers simply flying through?
I have tried to construct a life
alone here -- coffee at dawn; a jog
through the chilling air

counting my heartbeats,
as if the doctor were my only muse;
books and bread and firewood --
those usual stepping-stones from month
to freezing month. but the constricted light,
the year closing down on itself with all
the vacancies of January ahead, leave me
unreconciled even to beauty.
When will you be coming back?"

Happy Thanksgiving!

Poem "November" and Textiles by William Morris

"Yea, I have looked, and seen November there;
The changeless seal of change it seemed to be,
Fair death of things that, living once, were fair;
Bright sign of loneliness too great for me,
Strange image of the dread eternity,
In whose void patience how can these have part,
These outstretched feverish hands, this restless heart?

See list of popular posts on right for previous post about William Morris

Yes! Thank God! Well Done America!

BOO! Happy Halloween!

My Healing Art Jewelry on ETSY

I have been very busy of late stocking up my ETSY shop at http://MaureenTillman.etsy.com . I had not intended to create so many new pieces while in my temporary housing, but recently I have had requests to expand on my inspirational word jewelry. These requests were for pieces that presented words that could help in healing for women who are or have been facing challenges to their health, mind or spirit. 

As an artist who also loves to write, I have always been passionate about words. They have given me strength, hope, solace, comfort and inspiration in difficult times in my life. During those times I would write inspiring words on flat, smooth stones and carry them with me in my pocket throughout the day, sometimes running my thumb over the word when I needed strength. My jewelry is meant to uplift and renew every woman's indomitable spirit or inspire them in that same way. 

As a whole, my work is a collection of original one-of-a-kind mixed media collage artwork and jewelry. My work seeks to tell a story - someone's story, dreams, secrets - a narrative, a memoir, a confession, a fairy tale. It is my desire to draw the veil from what we conceal - from ourselves and others. I also wish to share the practice of mindfulness and sometimes even introduce a touch of whimsy to bring peace and joy into your life. 

A Letter in October by Ted Kooser

Dawn comes later and later now,
and I, who only a month ago
could sit with coffee every morning
watching the light walk down the hill
to the edge of the pond and place
a doe there, shyly drinking,

then see the light step out upon
the water, sowing reflections
to either side -- a garden
of trees that grew as if by magic --
now see no more than my face,
mirrored by darkness, pale and odd,

startled by time. While I slept,
night in its thick winter jacket
bridled the doe with a twist
of wet leaves and led her away,
then brought its black horse with harness
that creaked like a cricket, and turned

the water garden under. I woke,
and at the waiting window found
the curtains open to my open face;
beyond me, darkness. And I,
who only wished to keep looking out,
must now keep looking in.

The Cocoon by Robert Frost

As far as I can see this autumn haze
That spreading in the evening air both way,
Makes the new moon look anything but new,
And pours the elm-tree meadow full of blue,
Is all the smoke from one poor house alone
With but one chimney it can call its own;
So close it will not light an early light,
Keeping its life so close and out of sight
No one for hours has set a foot outdoors
So much as to take care of evening chores.
The inmates may be lonely women-folk.
I want to tell them that with all this smoke
They prudently are spinning their cocoon
And anchoring it to an earth and moon
From which no winter gale can hope to blow it,--
Spinning their own cocoon did they but know it.

The Beautiful Changes by Richard Wilbur

One wading a Fall meadow finds on all sides 
The Queen Anne's Lace lying like lilies
On water; it glides
So from the walker, it turns 
Dry grass to a lake, as the slightest shade of
you
Valleys my mind in fabulous blue Lucernes.

The beautiful changes as a forest is changed 
By a chameleon's tuning his skin to it;
As a mantis, arranged
On a green leaf, grows
Into it, makes the leaf leafier, and proves
Any greenness is deeper than anyone knows.

Your hands hold roses always in a way that 
says
They are not only yours; the beautiful changes
In such kind ways,
Wishing ever to sunder
Things and things' selves for a second finding,
to lose
For a moment all that it touches back to 
wonder.

My First Excursion in my New Home Town - Olbrich Botanical Gardens in Madison, Wisconsin

It was an exciting afternoon visiting the 16 acre Olbrich Botanical Gardens in Madison, Wisconsin this week. We focused specifically on the Bolz Conservatory, a 50 ft. high glass pyramid housing an extensive collection of tropical plants, birds and butterflies. It was like being transported to a lush distant rain forest. The plays of light and shadow along with the infinite show of shapes and colors delighted the photographer in me.