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Cindy Pujos-Michel's avatar

and for Beloved Basho:

Sitting quietly

doing nothing

Spring comes

and the grass grows by itself......

Out comes the lawn mower

and we mow away

and the grass grows

as we comb the hair of the mother.

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Dyane's avatar

Ahhh Cindy and aril!❤️❤️

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John Francis Pearring's avatar

Lovely.

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Cindy Pujos-Michel's avatar

Ohhhhh I love those babies! the sheer whimsy and delight in the dance......Spring is here, the grass is green, the ivy is out of control........ joy and bliss....makes you want to be a kid....ha ha yes!

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Susie Kaufman's avatar

The stark dignity of entrance....how beautiful that is. And the Basho....much gratitude.

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Nancy Mortifee's avatar

Going through the same feeling of powerless with my mother these days, Carol. Thanks for articulating it so eloquently... Lovely poem!

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Laverne Marie Booth's avatar

When I read your description of the times and can relate so intimately to the feeling of unable to do anything , and yet spring is in the air, I am amazed at how connected we all are on a biological level I guess it is.

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Carol Sill's avatar

Thanks for your comments, and for those who sent me email directly. I thought I'd combine them all into this one reply, to sum them up. Yes, this is one way to the heart. I see a lovely image of our Mother the earth - the ebb and flow and all-at-onceness of life, a gentle way we can comb the long grasses, her hair.(Braiding Sweetgrass) We are all connected on this biological level, with HER and with one another, and with the global events that appear to mow everything down. Yet, here it is again, the joy of spring. We bow in gratitude for all - for our own mothers, for the dignity of that portal, for poetry and connection. Delight in spring - this is the season of new starts.

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Roberta Colombin's avatar

Thank you Carol. And thanks for the reminder.

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Penny Joy's avatar

er ... I believe the song goes ... a kiddley eat divy too, wouldn't you? From one to whom this song was sung frequently as a child 🤣

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Judith Sogopo's avatar

Love the painting of the uninspiring Shamcher Institute.

Sometime in years to come I will join him there. Hugs dear Carol🥰

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