__The peaceful sounds of night, as we looked out over our sea. The sight of that quarter moon, seeming it was a spinnaker filled with the night winds and songs; tomorrow was at the helm.


earth compass
as the moonsail finds its course
the owl's chart
while crickets count the stars
life's helm

This thought was generated long ago by reading Howard Russell's book, "Indian New England Before the Mayflower."
__ According to this legend of Assawompset Pond and the Wampanoag people, Maize first grew at the grave of Mon-do-min. Mon-do-min, an old warrior, needed a small meal to remain alive. But Mon-do-min gave his meal to a dying woman, that meal would save her life. Thus, Maize was forever to be named... Mon-do-min.

mon-do-min
from this moon of leaves
nature lives

Thoughts are levers, the spoons that stir our dreams.

each moment 

a spoon that stirs our dreams

sip the now