February Poetry
Clouds are flowing in the river, waves are flying in the sky. Life is laughing in a pebble. Does a pebble ever die? Flowers grow out of the garbage, such a miracle to see. What seems dead and what seems dying makes for butterflies to be. Life is laughing in a pebble, flowers bathe in morning dew. Dust is dancing in my footsteps and I wonder who is who. Clouds are flowing in the river, clouds are drifting in my tea. On a never ending journey, what a miracle to be!
— Eveline Beumkes
March Poem
Through the weeks of deep now we walked above the ground on fallen sky, as though we did not come of root and leaf, as though we had only air and weather for our difficult home. But now as March warms, and the rivulets run like birdsong on the slopes, and the branches of light sing in the hills, slowly we return to earth.
— Wendell Berry
Food Is Art
