Long Nook Beach Truro After Winter

 

Climate Change

Swathed in layers of sweaters

beneath jacket and gloves

I tighten my hood covering hat and ears

Wind pushing against my body

I advance to explore

The pristine beach

Bottle green ocean and cliffs of sand.

A straight line is etched in the sand

Its origin a mystery

I seek the creature who drew the line to the sea

And find a small square rock.

Stones and pebbles falling

Urged downwards by the wind

Slipping, tumbling rolling down the dunes.

Zig zags, pressed ovals, triangular marks

Patterns impressed by the weight of the earth

Returning to the sea.

I am amazed by the uniqueness of each individual trail

All temporary, easily erased by a change of breeze or tide

I bear witness in my lifetime

To the change in the silhouette of dunes and shoreline

Shifting sandbars and creation of islands

Loss of homes, cities, cultures and species

And the small wonder of lovely patterns

I witness for a moment, pressed into the sand.

–by Nadja Maril

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Ice Day Poem by Nadja Maril

Ice4

Ice Day

By Nadja Maril

As soon as I see the sun

I reach for my coat in the closet.

It is time to walk

On this ice day.

Frozen bits melt into drops

Slide down gutters, pipes, trees

Plop on to the cold wet mush we once called snow.

 

I match my steps to my dog’s  wet prints on the asphalt

Keeping her leash firmly taut I choose my path

Carefully inspecting the speckled road and pavement

Remnants of ices to be avoided, clumps of salt

Detours created for the sake of Chloe’s paws.

 

This is a strange time of year

Transition from Winter into Spring

Cold and wet ooze

Sloppy puddles, chilly mush

I think of snow cones so desirable in summer

Now distasteful as the wind blows briskly on my face.

 

The sun’s rays warm  my armor

Heavy jacket, wool cap and padded gloves

Ultimately  arctic blast seeps into my bones

Hastens my return to shelter

Listening to spinning wheels and scraping shovels

I admire the still blue sky from my window.

High in the Andes Mountains of Peru the Number Three Has Many Meanings

I hold three crisp green Coca leaves…messages delivered to the fabric of the universe….

The Sacred Valley approaching Mlantaytambo
The Sacred Valley approaching Ollantaytambo

The Power of Three

 

I hold three crisp green Coca leaves

Arrange carefully their graceful elongated shapes

Admiring the small bouquet

An offering, grasped between my thumb and two fingers.

 

The chime of the bell signals it’s time

To inhale and expel three breaths imbued with my intentions

One for the underground snake

One for the prowling puma

One for the condor in the clouds.

 

Bits of fluffy cotton ask for rain

Sugar candy begs for a sweet life

Quinoa for sustenance and strength.

We sprinkle many things and make our requests

On the cloth of our existence

Creating a small bundle to be buried or burned

Messages delivered to the fabric of the universe.

 

Our demands are great.

Our offerings small.

The lack of balance spins the circle around

Creating a never ending spiral

Propelling us to repeat the journey

Humans on a spinning top, likely to fall from grace.

 

An altar placed within a church where once a temple stood

A holy place filled with memories and dreams

The trinity of life; past, present and future

The father, the son the Holy Ghost

The sun, the moon, the stars

The father, the mother, and the child

The three points of the triangle, a mountain stretching towards the sky.

 

We reach for the heavens

Forgetting to embrace the present

We stumble and repeat past mistakes

Searching for the answers

Trying to find our way back home.

______Nadja Maril   1/27/2015

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