James Crews: Light and Dark
Half-awake, I lose myself in a pool
of late morning sun and leaf-shadows
flashing on the floor outside my bedroom,
what the Japanese call komorebi—light
and dark held in the same container
of a single moment, as we hold them in us,
James Crews: Losing Heart | Poem and reflection
You might be
driving to work one stormy morning,
scowling at every car that passes you
when it happens again—that sudden
leap in the chest as you see the rain
James Crews: Consider the Lilies
Consider these lilies, how
they’d never call themselves
broken simply because they
had to live in darkness
and cold for months
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer: The One Great Story
we might find we are held
by strands of birdsong, by the even beat
of eagle’s wings, by the blue moonlight
that reflects off the snow.
James Crews: Meditation Class
I wiped the fog from the glass and saw
a statue of the Buddha on a shelf, laughing
at himself, laughing at me standing there
in a puddle, under a pine tree that kept
dripping on my head
James Crews: Beech Trees in Spring
Perhaps they need the reassurance,
or maybe they’re here to lend music
to the silence of winter
James Crews: Hello, Little Sun
On the rusty tin roof of a red barn
in rural Quebec, someone has carved
the words, Bonjour, petit-soleil—
Hello, little sun
Therese L. Broderick: Beautiful Uses | The Compassion of James Crews
This book’s enduring beauty and daily usefulness can cradle and help to heal our broken hearts.
James Crews: After the Blizzard & Sunflower
…awe will follow you from now on
wherever you go, like the snow-light
that fills these rooms
James Crews: Two Poems
We keep going back to the rocky beach,
searching for the glint of sea glass
James Crews: Berrypicking On the Dexter Trail
I see how the bulldozers that disfigured
this land, and removed the mossy,
old-growth maples, also made room
for black raspberry bushes to fill out
and fruit, ripeness reaching for my hands.
James Crews: Two Poems
Why do we try
to rush delight, strong-arm joy
into busy lives, when so much
beauty already seeds itself beneath
our restless feet?
James Crews: Finding my Mother
The day you passed away, I stumbled
along icy sidewalks, searching for any
sign of you
James Crews: Choosing the Light
Relentless
as the urge that also blooms in us—
to find the things that bring us alive,
and open ourselves fully to them, never
giving up
