God Kisses

On Sunday, she walked out the back door with the intention of allowing the scenery around her to inspire some writing. But the air was cool for sitting, so she laid her journal and pen on the table and walked into sunlight, scanning the view around her. The Sangre de Cristo Mountains touched the eastern sky. To the west, the San Luis Valley spread out wide and flat until it reached the San Juan range some hundred-fifty miles away. She took a deep breath of pine-scented air and began to explore the property where she was staying during her retreat.

Watching her footing amidst the stones and cactus, she caught sight of a ginormous moth grasping the base of low dry grasses. It was colored various shades of brown, with a fake blue eye on the upper corners of each forewing. Its antennae were like delicate feathers.

  

The woman crouched down to admire the moth’s size and design. She compared her index finger to the wingspan and saw that the creature was every bit as wide as her finger was long. She would later learn that this was a Glover’s Silkmoth, a member of North America’s family of giant silk moths.

She had somewhere to go, but before leaving she lightly touched the insect, only motivating it to move its wing slightly, as though lifted by a subtle breeze. She sensed the moth must be dying and would be dead by the time she returned. That afternoon, it was gone.

Four days later, on a Thursday morning, as she moved some papers off the counter, her attention was drawn outside the window to something like a leaf floating down. She walked over to the glass and saw on the ground the forewing of a Glover’s Silkmoth.

  

   

She immediately felt an even deeper connection between the moth and herself. Their interactions were a gift. A God kiss, she called it. She felt blessed. And she was.

But, looking up at the brilliant green of the aspen on the side of nearby peaks, and breathing in the freshness of the pine-scented air, she realized that God kisses too numerous to count show themselves every moment. Ah! There went one! Did you notice?

  

Carol Barrow

June, 2018

#15

She was half walking half skating on those shoes with wheels hidden in the heels. She was coming up the sidewalk as I was going down. Maybe she was ten. She was laughing and singing and moving on her wheeled shoes. Laughing and singing and moving on her wheeled shoes, happy, unselfconscious. Something welled up in me. I wanted to do what she was doing! I could feel the freedom inside my chest. For nearly a second, her eyes and my eyes met. No, it wasn’t our eyes that met. They were just the portals for something else that recognized itself. We passed each other, and I wondered… If I wanted to do what she was doing, wouldn’t I do it? What was stopping me? Somewhere between ten and now, somewhere long ago, I began to care what others thought of me. So, no, I didn’t want to do what she was doing, because I cared more about how it would look than I did about laughing and singing and moving with or without wheeled shoes. 


Carol Barrow
May, 2018

#14

Circles

The hawk soars circles against a backdrop of blue sky.
The hawk’s body rests beside the creek
on soil made of the deaths that came before him.
The hawk is a memory to those who watched him fly.
The hawk is forgotten by those who watched him fly.
The earth and air are made of hawk,
but those who knew him do not notice.
The earth and air are made of hawk 
    and those who knew him, too.

Carol Barrow
April 2018

#13

three

puffball

baby

owls

on

one

branch

   mom

   watching

   close

   by

   from

   a

   different

   tree

easy

to

find

because

of

the

small

group

standing

below

heads

up

pointing

smiling

     a

     man

     with

     a

     huge

     belly

     shares

     his

     owl

     story

     with

     me

i

ooh

and

ahhh

and

love

owls

together

with

him



Carol Barrow
April, 2018

#12

If 

we

all

recognized

our

place

in 

Life

the 

air

would

be

filled

with 

songs

of

Thank You

Thank You

Thank You

Carol Barrow

April, 2018

#11

Haven’t loved my shoulder
     though it is hurting
          and much in need of love.

Haven’t loved my back or feet.
Haven’t loved my stomach.
And forgot my face
years ago.

I am sad for that
but so happy to know
to love now.

No,
scratch that “sad” part.

So happy 
to know to love.

So happy 
to love.

So happy. 




Carol Barrow
April, 2018