Mother Moose

Some days I feel as happy as a
Mother Moose— with her face as long as the day,
and her eyes as wide as the

on those days I feel free and
untrammeled, footloose, like her
when her baby has finally
struck out on its

because you just never know,
when the next weeping willow,
might lead you on to greener
pastures—or a tasty new branch
on the tree of life.

So weep if you must at life’s losses;
since last spring, I’ve certainly wept
enough, as the bravely purple
pasque flowers in this meadow
all agree:

but just like Mother Moose, we’ve
all come back here this year,
with some hard-won wisdom, which
is that nothing it seems
is ever really over—

even last winter’s grievous
mistakes—these, too can suddenly
start growing bright green shoots,
vigorously shouting out all kinds
of new life

waiting to be born.

Skyfire II

Two pillars of fire
plunging endlessly
upside down
into the bottomless
as they came: from

In only a moment,
the emptied day, likewise
vanishing into the
consummation of the
nighttime—a wide-
rimmed blue eye
dropping its lid.

Now dreamtime begins,
with its soundless hiatus
of beauty and stillness,
as perfect as field daisies
in the morning, before the
startling awakening to

a reopened sky.


SISTER JUDITH THACKRAY, Hermit of Sarada, is a founding member of
the Interfaith Contemplative Order of Sarada. Email:

Pin It on Pinterest

Share This