Iona's Stone

An ancient stone fence encircles the Abbey grounds

where saints and pilgrims have walked for millennia

As a young islander repairs the wall,

he fingers a single small stone

as if it were a precious gem

He fits it into a small gap with great care

I am that small stone,

a part of the timeless fabric of this blessed place.

Pilgrimage to Iona

Tomorrow I will be leaving for Scotland on a pilgrimage to the holy isle of Iona, seat of early Celtic Christianity. This is something I have wanted to do for some time. I'll be away for about eleven days. Pictures and poems to follow.

Blessings,

Clare

Early Summer

As I drive past the median

Two blue jays dance on a lush grassy carpet

They squawk at each other as they hop,

One tries to outdo the other

"I am the king of the mountain!"

Childhood memories of

Summer's first days,

Exuberant, carefree, everything was possible

Summer seemed endless then