The season of miracles

This past First Day, I was reminded in our pre-meeting discussion that Friends don't keep days or seasons because every day is holy. The discussion was loosely structured as a "brunch," with a metaphorical appetizer or beverage course involving sharing a poem or reading; a main course to allow us time for deeper reflections on spring, renewal, hope, and miracles; and a dessert course to top it off, sharing a favorite recipe for this time of year or what we are looking forward to.

Many of us were aware that the mainstream Christian holiday of Easter, the Jewish holiday of Passover, and the Muslim holiday of Ramadan all overlapped this year. It has nearly always been a sore point for me when a major Christian holiday comes around because I am often left out of those conversations, not having been raised in that tradition. So for us as a meeting to take a beat or two and acknowledge these other holidays and "seasons" warmed my heart.

As the sharing got underway, I was often moved or struck by what we heard from one another. I began taking short notes, jotting down a peculiar phrase that a Friend used, or referencing an image that someone spoke of. By the end of our pre-meeting time, a poem had organically risen from our blessed time together.

IN TALKING ABOUT MIRACLES

the song of the peepers
the sighting of the purple violets and white
among skunk cabbages on the forest floor

planting peas and parsnips
old marigold seeds from years ago awaken in zipper bags
the season of making seeds turn into sprouts amid our miraculous observation

the migration of gray juncos
the thinning of ice on ponds
slivers of open water
welcoming the return of herons

the rhizome alive within us
under the right conditions
with the right Love
the people will bloom
and we unfold and unfurl
and become again

joyous day
wondrous season
season of miracles

Blessings,
Liz