An invisible bird flies over, but casts a quick shadow. What is the body? That shadow of a shadow of your love, that somehow contains the...

My friend Toni Goodman shared this beautiful Mary Oliver poem with us. Thank you Toni, my poetry mentor! Poem of the One World Mary...

We have a wonderful community of engaged people in my online yoga classes, and last Monday one of the students mentioned this poem in the...

I recently bought the book Clarity & Connection, by Yung Pueblo, and the first thing that I have been doing in the morning is to open it...

I bumped into this poem, by John O'Donohue, from his book "To Bless the Space Between Us" For Loneliness When the light lessens, Causing...

I recently read a phrase by Pierre Alais, yoga teacher, and student of Shivananda & T.K.V. Desikachar, a phrase that stayed with me:...

There is a brokenness out of which comes the unbroken, a shatteredness out of which blooms the unshatterable. There is a sorrow beyond...

I wonder if the sun debates dawn some mornings not wanting to rise out of bed from under that down-feather horizon if the sky grows tired...

I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers flow in the right direction, will the earth turn as it was taught, and if not how...

I have been in love more times than one, thank the Lord. Sometimes it was lasting whether active or not. Sometimes it was all but...

Will the hungry ox stand in the field and not eat of the sweet grass? Will the owl bite off its own wings? Will the lark forget to lift...

Now the seasons are closing their files on each of us, the heavy drawers full of certificates rolling back into the tree trunks, a few...

Your exact errors make a music that nobody hears. Your straying feet find the great dance, walking alone. And you live on a world where...

Sometimes I choose a cloud and let it cross the sky floating me away. Or a bird unravels its song and carries me as it flies deeper and...

Be a person here. Stand by the river, invoke the owls. Invoke winter, then spring. Let any season that wants to come here make its own...

At Blackwater Pond the tossed waters have settled after a night of rain. I dip my cupped hands. I drink a long time. It tastes like...

I like to live in the sound of water, in the feel of mountain air. A sharp reminder hits me: this world is still alive, it stretches out...

even a small purple artichoke boiled in its own bittered and darkening waters grows tender, grows tender and sweet patience, I...

The poppies send up their orange flares; swaying in the wind, their congregations are a levitation of bright dust, of thin and lacy...

The hour is striking so close above me, so clear and sharp, that all my senses ring with it. I feel it now: there's a power in me to...