The Legend of Rainbow Bridge by William N. Britton Illustrated by Dandi Palmer

      

"Until one has loved an animal,

      a part of one's soul

      remains unawakened.

                     ~Anatole France~

it seemed as if we'd lost our 

assistant ed. frosty "I was crying 

from the depths of my heart. . ." 

states assis't ed. tama (you and 

Judith and I, we all were, Tama) 

but!  due to some, gotta say it, 

apparent spiritual interventions, 

we haven't!  

    Here he is, all healthy and an even 

       improved irresistible rascal!

Seeking solace for our heartache, 

we turned to 

The Legend of Rainbow Bridge

(for children and adults of all ages) "healing words and comfort

for souls and hearts of countless animal lovers around the world"

a teaching/healing presence held by peoples all around our world (here, explained by a shaman, a religious philosopher of our native Sioux/Iroquois). . .

Just this side of heaven is the Rainbow Bridge. When our pets die, they run and play together, healed and happy, beside this bridge made of rainbows. . . and they are content, and! they are waiting,
waiting for their beloved human(s),
for you and I. . . and when we approach, they'll just know, and quickly will come to us - after a joyous reunion, together, we'll cross the Rainbow Bridge.

tama says, "if I'm the first to the Rainbow Bridge, I'll be waiting for frosty, and 
judith, and for you, mister editor daryl" and we for you, tama. . .  we'll all 
cross the Rainbow Bridge, together.
   

Love the animals,

Love the plants,

Love everything.

If you love everything, you will

   perceive the divine mystery in things.

Once you perceive it, you will begin to

   comprehend it better every day.

And you will come at last to love the

whole world with an all-embracing love.

                        ~Fyodor Dostoevsky~                                      

see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen

                       darylayaz@gmail.com (and/or) darylayaz@me.com

from bear creek haiku #136: Mary Jo Balistreri, Catfish McDaris, A J Huffman, Jim Kacian, Karen O'Leary, Nancy Shires, Christina Sng, Donna Snow, and! T Kilgore Splake. . .

from assistant ed. frosty:                       

"my very favorite poets 

are in this 

soon-to-be issue"

and! assistant ed. tama: 

"every poet we choose  

is my favorite poet!"

t. kilgore splake

calumet  michigan:

phone marketers hangups

 encouraging old poet

secret admirer still alive

                            catfish mcdaris

                            west allis  wisconsin:

                                                                                    

                                                                The Desert

Cochise’s dry hot tears                                  

skeletons of buffalo

windstorm ghosts dry death.                                    

mary jo balistreri

genesee depot  wisconsin:

    Witness

    As the storm comes

    closer

    the bent-limbed oaks

    offer shelter

    to fluttering finches,

    yellow-slick feathers

    curled into

    golden balls

    ornaments

    of hope

    in a deep-rumble sky

nancy shires

greenville  north carolina:

                             little wren

                             smaller than

                             his own song

if I don't move. . .

cat curled in the crook

of my legs

  donna snow

  lakeland  tennessee: 

  Today lilacs are in full bloom

  Their sweet smell my odd companion

  At the breakfast table;

  What a delicious tea!

a j huffman

ormond beach  florida:

Fog-filled dreams disperse.

Freeing my mind to wander

In and out of sleep.

                                      Listen to the trees.

                                      They whisper themselves silent.

                                      My nature is to follow. 

christina sng  

singapore:

                 first day of summer

                 a raven feather

                 at the door

curled up with books

endless winter nights

spent in other worlds

    jim kacian

    winchester  virginia:

top down

the midwest

unfolds

           Sunday morning

           a jazz riff

           in the mockingbird's call

    fog the sound of the foghorn

karen o'leary

west fargo  north dakota:

sepia pages

peace settles                                 central farm time    

between the wrinkles                       milking the cows before

                                               the cock crows

frosty and tama: "goodbye, everyone!  treats, belly rubs, 

                                            and peace for all!"

see you in a moment

ayaz daryl nielsen

                                    

                                      darylayaz@gmail.com (and/or) darylayaz@me.com

on my knees before Dorothy Walters: "MARROW OF FLAME Poems of the Spiritual Journey"

poetry section of favorite used bookstore, seldom visit the lowest shelf (w, x, y and z) 'cause it's a matter of hands and knees ("should take me with you" grumbles assistant editor the froster). . .
so! on my knees, nose to the floor [bowing to poetry?], a revelation:  Dorothy Walters! now wishing I'd embraced this poet forty or so years ago ("never too late" from assistant editor tama)- the tumultuous incursion of heartfelt reviews (daniel ladinsky and andrew harvey included) 'with the heart of Rumi', 'etched in fire and ice', 'an extreme love affair with the Divine'. . . 
                                         "and they're right!" states tama

Dorothy Walters, her poetic depth akin Li Po, Rilke, Hafiz, a Wiccan princess, Ono No Komachi. . .

In The Forest

was a path
which led on,
and on as if an access
to a deeper realm--
a place where peripherals,
the eddies at the edge of things,
were all forgotten,
and I entered
a silence of green,
became a soundless vortex
moving through stillness.


from The Witch. . .
Since then I have lived here
at the edge of the woods
with my tabby and my charms,
my thatch needing repair.
My potions are famous
all over these parts.
When people come seeking
from near and from far,
they ask what goes in.
I mutter: "Roots and berries.
Berries and roots."
How can I tell them
it is themselves they taste?





MARROW OF FLAME   Poems of the Spiritual Journey
   Dorothy Walters         Hohm Press    ISBN: 0-934252-96-3


see you in a thatched hut

ayaz daryl nielsen
("and frosty!")  ("and tama!")                        

darylayaz@gmail.com (and/or) darylayaz@me.com