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  "PageContent": "<h3>A Hundred Falling Veils | there's a poem in every day</h3>February 1, 2026 by Rosemerryon Imbolc, 2026Midwinter, in Minnesota,they are planting seedsin the cold, seeds of kindness,community, compassion,ferocity. In the streets,they plant seeds of integrity,diversity, equality, justice.On pavement and in snow,they plant democracy.The light is growing.Imagine the beautyif even half these seeds take.What a life that will be whenthey bloom. Imagineall that goodness reseeding,spreading like wildflowers.Goodness burgeoning,rampant, tenacious as weeds.\r\n\t\t\t\t\tPosted in Uncategorized | Tagged goodness, imbolc, minnesota, planting, seeds | \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tLeave a Comment »January 31, 2026 by RosemerryI walk to the river and see how the bankshave changed since even two days ago.Now water flows through the bright red willowsinstead of staying in the main channel.I remember how it used to run right herewhere I am standing until a mighty flashflood altered its course and there was nota damn thing anyone could have done to stop it.There is, even now, a rising flood of love.It will move anything that tries to impede it.When I can’t hear the flood of love,that’s when I know it is up to me to share loveso someone else hears the currents I’m listening for.Together we make unstoppable waves—how they roar.\r\n\t\t\t\t\tPosted in Uncategorized | Tagged change, flood, love, river | \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tLeave a Comment »January 30, 2026 by RosemerryI could have said potato chips. Always true. Plain ones. No flavors. Potato. Oil. Salt. I could have said black licorice from Finland, also always true. Or long flowy pants with no front pockets. That’s new. Tending my eight aloe babies still recovering from their transplant. Counting orchid buds about to bloom. How many grams of protein in a serving of anything. The insane softness of my daughter’s inner arm. How baby swifts can fly ten months without stopping. Imagining Rodin and Rilke watching sunsets together. But what I said felt truest of all—I am starved for all stories of kindness. The young man delivering diapers to immigrant families in Maine. The woman sending socks to my friend with cancer. The stranger who walked a labyrinth with me. My husband offering me the last egg in the carton. Anyone who smiles and says hello in the grocery store aisles. Anyone who says hello back.\r\n\t\t\t\t\tPosted in Uncategorized | Tagged hyperfixation, kindness | \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t12 Comments »January 28, 2026 by RosemerryFrom what darkness in its centerdoes the amaryllis call forththe tall green stalk, the muscular bud,the voluptuous petals pealing backfrom the center like radiant red bells?What impossible sun shinesinside the rough-skinned bulbto generate such lushness,such extravagant beauty?I want to know it, to trust it,this bright immensity that pulses throughwhat is darkest in me, this life forcethat cannot fit inside, that thruststhrough the desiccated skinsof my exhausted hopes to reveal itselfvulnerable and soft, vital, astonishing,belonging to no one, alive within us all.\r\n\t\t\t\t\tPosted in Uncategorized | Tagged amaryllis, dark times, hope, life, life force, trust | \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t4 Comments »January 27, 2026 by RosemerryEverything and everywhere is all here. It’s always been here.—Bunkong Tuon, “Year of the Snake”All the peace that has ever beenand will ever be is here now.Hard not to focuson the noose of injustice,which is, of course, always here, too.As it has always been.As it will always be.To praise the world is to praise it all.How hard to praise it all.I have heard giraffes make a low humin the night, a way, scientists think,to help them find each other in the dark.Perhaps this is why I find myselfsinging so much in these darkened days—a way to call to the others,let them know as the noose tightenswe are here together.And when it is especially hard,I listen. Mostly, I trust peace is always here.Still the relief to hear the singing.I know am not alone.\r\n\t\t\t\t\tPosted in Uncategorized | Tagged giraffe, peace, singing | \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t12 Comments »January 27, 2026 by RosemerryWhen a gator is chasing you,he said, you run away,but zig zag. They can scent you,and they’re fast, but they aren’tagile enough to turn well. Andthis is how I might have becomea gator bite. His advice sounded good,and it was echoed by others I met,but fact is the best bet to survivea gator attack is to back up slowwith the hands in the air to look big.If it charges, then run. Fast.In a straight line. No zagging.They’re quick, but tire easily on land.How many other stories do I trustevery day, not thinking to look them up?How many people have I fed to the gators?The world has never been swampier.The need to check what we’re told is great.Look friend, here comes a gator even now.Face him. Raise your arms. Back away slow.Don’t turn your back if you can help it.They look more like people than you’d think.—Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer\r\n\t\t\t\t\tPosted in Uncategorized | Tagged alligator, facts, gator | \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t14 Comments »January 26, 2026 by RosemerryI take my rage to the river.A heron flies into the wind.I let myself be openedby the great gray wingsand the great gray skyand the great gray largeness of water,not to rid myself of ragebut to become a clearer channelto meet the chest-scouring,scab-clawing, cell-screaming,throat-burning fury of rageand remind my heart I canknow all this rage, can beferal with rage and stillkeep on loving the world.\r\n\t\t\t\t\tPosted in Uncategorized | Tagged Alex Pretti, beauty, loving the world, paradox, rage | \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t7 Comments »January 24, 2026 by Rosemerryonly when buffetedby the windstorm do I truly noticehow still I can be\r\n\t\t\t\t\tPosted in Uncategorized | Tagged compromise, noncompromise, still, stoicism, wind | \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t2 Comments »January 23, 2026 by RosemerryWhat are you catching today?I asked the man on the pier.Nothin’, he said.What do you wish you were catching?I asked.Anything, he said.And could I be so brave?Could I throw out my lineto the ocean of the world,stand there at the edge,patient and still,and say to life, anything,anything at all, whatever you give me,I’ll reel it in. I’ll take it.\r\n\t\t\t\t\tPosted in Uncategorized | Tagged acceptance, fishing, St. Simons | \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t1 Comment »January 23, 2026 by Rosemerry                  inspired by Maya Stein’s 10-line poem formWhat if, in this moment, every person on earth thinks of someone who makes us feel cherished, known, safe? What if we let ourselves linger in this moment of connection? What might happen inside each body? What might happen in the world as in unison our breaths begin to even and slow? Would the pulsing of our hearts begin to synch, the way heart cells in a petri dish come to keep time with each other? What is earth if not a great experiment in which we are all both observer and observed? How long could it last, this rhythmic communion between jailor and prisoner, oppressor and oppressed, between fighter and fighter, maker and destroyer, parent and child, liar and believer, all of us thinking of love? Foolish, perhaps, to imagine such impossible moments. But more foolish not to imagine such things. Even now, I’m thinking of someone. It feels like the moon is inside me.\r\n\t\t\t\t\tPosted in Uncategorized | Tagged breath, connection, impossible dream, love, moon, peace | \t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t1 Comment »Older Posts »",
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