The Moon in My Hands
The Moon in My Hands
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BRUSH AND QUILL
THROUGH THE LENS
- A Gathering of Scarecrows
- At Her Royal Ease
- August Moon
- Barn Door and Wreath
- Bee and Michaelmas Daisy
- Beyond All Coming and Going
- Bird on a Wire
- Bloodroot in Bloom
- By Winter Crowned
- Dancing Light
- Dew Holding the Sky
- Fall Asters
- Falling Water (I)
- Falling Water (II)
- Floating
- Frog Dreams
- Frosted
- Greenly
- Guardians of the Flock
- Heart Opening Wide
- Hepatica
- Ice and Old Wood
- In the Heart of the Aster
- Jack-in-the-Pulpit
- Jewel in Summer Stillness
- Jewel in Summer Stillness II
- Lightly Coming to Rest
- Lily of the Day
- Lit From Within
- Monastery Bell Tower
- Moon and Dancing Light
- November Stream
- Oak and Granite
- October Morning
- On Night's Windy Fringes (I)
- On Night's Windy Fringes (II)
- Red Empress Unfolding
- Shaman's Moon
- Sheepish
- Showy Lady Slipper
- Spirits of Springtime
- Spring in White and Gold
- Swallowtail
- Tasting the Air
- Tattered Prayers
- The Girl With the Red Umbrella
- The Lady Returns
- The Moon in My Hands
- The Red and the Gold
- Thoughts of Migration
- Three Jennys
- Trout Lily
- Views From the Bridge
- Water, Leaf and Stone
- White Trillium
- Wild Columbine
Wise Words
These pages, too, are nothing other than talking leaves—their insights stirred by the winds, their vitality reliant on periodic sunlight and on cool dark water seeping up from within the ground. Step into their shade. Listen close. Something other than the human mind is at play here.
David Abram
Winding river, endless mountains— the dark forest breathing mist. There is no road into the sacred place. It’s just that, the deeper you go, the more wondrous it becomes.
John Daido Loori
We live in a sea of light.
Henry Plummer
As a poet I hold the most archaic values on earth... the fertility of the soil, the magic of animals, the power-vision in solitude, the terrifying initiation and rebirth, the love and ecstasy of the dance, the common work of the tribe.
Gary Snyder
David Abram
Winding river, endless mountains— the dark forest breathing mist. There is no road into the sacred place. It’s just that, the deeper you go, the more wondrous it becomes.
John Daido Loori
We live in a sea of light.
Henry Plummer
As a poet I hold the most archaic values on earth... the fertility of the soil, the magic of animals, the power-vision in solitude, the terrifying initiation and rebirth, the love and ecstasy of the dance, the common work of the tribe.
Gary Snyder