Posts Tagged ‘beginnings’



weeping beside

the pussy willows—

all those tears

over saying goodbye,

I wouldn’t uncry

a single one

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And suddenly you know: It’s time to start something new and trust the magic of beginnings.

            —Meister Eckhart



And suddenly you know it’s time

to shovel the drive. For though snow

still falls, at this moment it’s only


three inches deep and you can still push it easily

with your two wide yellow shovels.

Yes, it’s time to start something new—


though it doesn’t feel new, this

shoving snow from one place to another.

In fact, your shoulders still feel


the efforts of yesterday.

But with each push of the shovels,

the path on the drive is new again. At least


it’s new for a moment, new until snow

fills it in. Then it’s a different kind of new.

How many beginnings are like this?


They don’t feel like beginnings at all?

Or we miss their newness?

Or they feel new only for a moment


before they’ve lost their freshness?

There is magic in beginnings, says Meister Eckhart,

and sometimes we see beginnings all around us,


a new path, a new promise, a new meal.

A new prayer. New snow fall. A new song.

Is it too grand to call it magic, this new calendar year?


Too grand to call it magic, this momentary

clearing on the drive? Too grand to be magic,

this momentary clearing in my thoughts?


Or is it exactly, perhaps, what magic is—

something we allow ourselves to believe,

despite logic, despite reason, something that brings


us great pleasure, makes us question

what we thought we knew, our sense

of what is possible changed.



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In One Move




wings cramped

in that nest of last year—


rediscovering how to fly

I leave all those twigs

exactly where they are


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Before the First Step


And again we draw the starting line

and dig for the courage to toe it.

This, too, is a beginning.

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Three Beginnings

just like heaven
–Katie Melua

she said, girl you ain’t
got a prayer, and I thought that’s
a fine place to start


odd, all this snow
around, six below, and here
we are blossoming


in the bowl, reflection
of sky—kneeling
I drink it

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