February 28, 2023


By Amba Gale

This morning,
the white cloud arrested
my attention:
bird taking flight in its sea of blue.

The wind rests gently on the water,
a light blanket of softening ripples.

Nearer to shore, a duck’s wake makes a circle.

What if I should call all this –what I am present to—
The white cloud.
The bird/cloud taking flight.
The wind resting on the water.
The duck’s wake.


Now, some electronic sounds disturb the silence.
Every thirty seconds.
I remember that joyfully, I used to
name those cloud shapes as a little girl.

Cottonwood, there, its limbs bear in winter solace,
points across the sound.

The Barcelona mug which holds my tea
atop Gaudi’s house?

The tea itself still warm
as it soothes my throat on it way down.

The candles, the owls, the butterfly girl, Durga, Buddha, Shiva, Ganesh,
even the cat lying on his back.

Amazing, all.

Does this alter your perspective?
Perhaps. It has mine.

And I walk into this day, amazement gracing my way.

Additional Poetry

September 26, 2023


Let go and love the way the world turns. Be with it. Allow it. Notice it. Even, embrace it. When you rail against it, you become part of the same energy that stopped the flow at the beginning. Be the holder of it. Know that it, too, has a destination to, finally, merge as one with all. Listen deeply to your heart inside and those things you know are anciently true. Trust in your essential wisdom to lead the way. The world is in flux. You will find your way. “All things must pass.” Let them go. May I be…

September 12, 2023


Dancing in the water, the bright orange sun winks at me through the branches of the pine. The ceiling falling is nothing, being present to such beauty.

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