Aquarius

January 27, 2025February 26, 2025 | Megan

The First Universe was You
(Maybe one day it will all make sense. This is probably just my hubris talking.)

You were the first person I saw
—visually—as a Universe

I had been feeling it for a while–
this idea of the infinite

In the love I watched women
Give to everything, everyone

Around them, the spiraling arms of
Stars– known, each in their own sphere

I heard it in my head, when you
Explained: I am trying to love myself

In essence, “I contain multitudes,” and I
Chalked that line up to some god from

Our shared past-religion, but it turns
Out it was Walt Whitman

Describing women, of course, he was
Describing himself and thereby all

Humans, alike in our vastness, and then
A friend’s husband died, and I felt

It all over again, this idea that we
Are these very fragile, very short-lived

Phenomena, and yet, somehow infinite,
And don’t forget that must explain

How your trip was my trip, or I took
A part of your trip as my own trip

Like a feather in my mushroom cap
Like a rose in my funerary lapel

Because I am enough was what your
Psyche told you, and I am here to

Infinite down on that memo, that factor:
I am enough. You are enough. Multitudes.

You contain multitudes which is why
Making decisions out of temporary

Information must feel so hard. So,
Take my hand. Grab my spiral arm

Arm in arm. Here we go. Forever
Into the Unknown. Universe.

Glass Greenhouse. Neighborhood. January 2025.

Arms

To have the arms of the Universe flung out before
You. I’ve seen it with my own eyes—one arm rolling
Sushi with her son, another arm filled to the infinite with stars
Held comfortably under her daughter’s climbing shoes.
You are made of Everything—darkness and light– the stuff

Jeweled into the eternity of now, this moment.
Universe, can you hear her? Like listening to nuclear fusion
With a stethoscope—the breath, the pulse, the beat, the
Mother-heart giving life to all existent things, and even things
That may no longer be. But that act, the fusion at the

Core of the Universe—every opal clouded nebula, a nursery
Every blazing Azure star, a new creation, can you imagine if she
Knew she needed to become something new, and altogether
Different entirely. What if she knew that her core was burned
Out, her fuel exhausted and all of the stars, all of the

Beings that rested in her consciousness would once again
Become so much dust, so she died. She gave up her
Old form, her life, her arms spinning off into the horizon
She simply couldn’t go on fusing life together in that way
Explosion/Implosion it wouldn’t matter which way the

Translation took place, but the Matter of it all would always,
Always remain. The actual physical atoms of all she gave, all
She shaped, all she sacrificed, forever encoded in the stuff of
Galaxies, dwarf stars, and solar systems we’ll never lay eyes on
She knew it. Yet, she wept anyway, despite her knowing

Canal. Two ducks. Drainage pipe. January 2025.

Celebrate

December 21, 2024February 20, 2025 | Megan

Timpanogos and Half Moon. Image, my own.

The Death

each stalk of grass
is hollow and barren
this time of year
skeletons of
viridescent pasts
like raw
leafless trees
memories of living
and of dying
the pulling back
the cocooning
of life in silent
night, darkness
chambers, interiors
of many plants and
animals teaches
us all about the
death and the
rebirth of life, light
so that we won’t
fully despair

The Return

the light
returns this morning
with the owls
they call
from tree to
branch, as sun

pinks surely
over the
charcoaled horizon
kilned through
night, and sealed in
the new, cold light

of this
winter morning
where I’m aghast
at the magic, memory
magnificence, majesty
transitive verb

of the whole
thing where I
am present
when the light
is seven minutes
old and each

photon graces
my retina with
the reminder
that the light
always returns
until it doesn’t

until the whole
sky is
bathed in numinous
halogenic possibility
the presence of
the now

as the light
returns
may we remember
the power of the
darkness
the importance

of slow, intentional
rest, the rejuvenating
properties of
sleep for a world
that simply needs
to listen to

the magic of the
intransitive verbs
of owls

Dark

Enfold me in your blackness,
I don’t want to be afraid of the dark
In fact, I want to embrace my shadow
Shadows of all that I thought would
Suck the marrow out of me, but instead
Offered me a respite, a resting place
A hallowed breath of solace and silence
Dark, the thing that so much incandescent
Luminosity is meant to fight, to ward off, as
Humanity wilts under all this light

Space

Maybe the most surprising thing about poems is that they take a fair amount of space and time
The words are often all there, waiting on the lip, the tip of consciousness, but flow takes room
Takes open-ended realities, wide skies like altars in the arcing air, vast closenesses and distances
Which the heart contemplates, the healing place, the hell, the compassionate lengths to which a
Human will go to tell a truth, a peace, a playful nothing, a love, a life, a poem

Don’t Die

when it began, I’m not quite sure,
but as of late my son has a new post
script for nearly every exchange,
“don’t die” he tells me as I start
the engine of the car, “don’t die”
he encourages as I head off to work
“don’t die” when the rain is falling
in sheets that darken each atom
of exposed earth, he must understand
something about the nature of life

Beloved and Time. Image, Aubreigh Parks.

Celebration

sometimes the celebration will be the growing of the light
minute by minute over the horizon, moment by moment
in our children’s eyes. Sometimes the celebration will be
the sleep, the forgetting, the separation and the longing
which brings deeper communion with the divine, the
place, the way, unsure, the path, the journey, one precious
step at a time. Sometimes the celebration will be the growing
of the self, the yearning, expanding, nearly cracking open of
your sternum with the enlarging, ever-beating heart, the lungs
full-burdened with life giving nitrogen plus oxygen, exhale the
heaviness and grief, inhale, close your eyes and let go

Weave

December 9, 2024February 26, 2025 | Megan

Hoar Frost. December 2024. Image, my own.

Chancel

And now I bow
In the nave
I built with my
Own hands
A force of will
Maybe, and of
Hope, and strength
And love, and
Power, and good
Ness and weak
Ness and sacrifice
And longing and
Grief and beginning
I kneel before this
Altar to my dreams
Before I burn
It down, before
The doing and
Undoing pulse
Through my being
And there it is
Again, my knowing
In the unknowing
That this temple
This altar this
Divine expression
Must ignite, must
Burn, must be made
Into ash, and thereby
Made into everything
That comes after–
The garden, the
Synagogue, the holiest
Holy, of all the sacred
Spaces, filled with the
Breath, the Fire of the
Divine Universe intoned
In your throat, in your
Heart, in your center
Melted to make
Way for something New

Gift

Sometimes the memories
And myths that were woven
Into your childhood become
Magic again to your arcing
Soul. The songs that break
Forth in trumpets. The
Prayers that end in good
Tidings. The trees all
Dressed in snow and stars
Light against long December
Nights which beg gathering
And joy-filled repasts

Roads Taken

Two roads diverged in a snowy wood
And knowingly, quiet and somber I stood,
looking out on the starry, moonlit way
then took the path that had already been trod

With careful foot-fall through the hoary frost,
after the ribbon of travelers who’d crossed
the fork in the road, the decision place
And rather than test the dark and the cold

I took the chance to walk along
where others had gone, and bend my care
instead to perceiving the moment, the present
The here, the now, the trees and the fences

I shall be telling this in an age
from maiden, to matron, to crone, to sage,
I took the road that many had paved
And made it my journey, anyway

Fern Frost. Photograph: Skip Via, West Valley Naturalists.

Braid

dark and light
strands of fermion
behavior spin
good
evil
if they
exist
tethered
whole
to the same
fate maybe
driving Dirac’s
trick
as truth
every particle
we are made of
even distantly
is woven, connected
to the cosmological
horizon, all tangled up,
simultaneously unspun
strand by strand into
infinity

Nothing Like

November 24, 2024November 24, 2024 | Megan

Jupiter and the Pleiades. November. Northern Hemisphere. Image, my own.

Holocene

When the sky lifts, so lapis and milky blue,
Your ocular senses are overwhelmed
The owl calls out, into and through the pencil-
Sketched branches of the cottonwood, then
Down from the neighbor’s roof, as the golden

Sky continues to lift into day, a flat aquamarine
The stark lines of leafless branches against
The air stand beckoning, the promise and
Possibility of new– growth, change, revivification
Glittering diamonds of momentary snow still

Hold winter’s mystery. We do not know what
We will be when the new buds come, but only
What is– this moment, this tree, this
Possibility of everything, anything
Makes our heads spin and swim

Bounded by our humanness, mortality
Consequence, but dazzled by all that is
In us– the roads we’ve wandered, mountains
We’ve scaled, journeys taken and joyed over
And travailed. So much unknown

It still feels like the owl is a good omen
Round white face, deep open amber eyes, wide
And night-visioned, all the flecks and freckled feather
patterns of each wing spread against dawn and dusk
Gifts that portent deaths and lives to come

No Name Saloon. Park City. Image, my own.

Shoes

When your shoes wear
out
run like hell through
tulip fields
Take off
to the mountains
Climb every geologic
Formation
Just to
Prove
You’re alive
You can
You’re not dead… yet
You still want
To spend that
moment with the crickets
under night’s blackness
only the stars
know you’re there

When your shoes are
worn out
you take your daughter to
the gravel pit
and train
your camera lens
on the North Star
tripod so still
to prove
you know
where you are going
even though you
Don’t
you depress
the shutter
let the sky bleed in
for hours
and all you are left with
is time

No time left
But you have those
Shoes
to remind you
to keep you
on your journey
Home–
Through–
Around–
To–
To that time
When the cosmos
smudged its glory
across the lens of
your camera
Film
Still
the most sure sign
that the stars
will fall in
to center
North
Balance
bringing these stars
to you

Autumn Sunset. November 2024. Image, my own.

Question(s)

For all those who question:
Borders
Boundaries
Countries
Alliances
Allies
Friends
Enemies
Economies
Lovers
Children
Fools
Frauds
Race
Place
Faith

I love you

Winter Dandelion. Acrylic on heavyweight cotton paper. Margo Elizabeth Glass. 2024

Night Guide

When Ursa Major dips so low
In the Northern Hemisphere that
Only her two guiding stars are
Visible in the deep of darkness
Black, the seven sisters start to rise
Pleiades, in silent winter’s night as
Cassiopeia, queen, stands out above
The calm chill also pointing her way to our
Closest cosmic simulacrum Andromeda
The stars are there, uncaring and seemingly
Cold, distant even impossibly far, and yet
Known, seen, perceived though the crickets
Haven’t made a sound, the air, nearly
Incorporeal breaths of rest, sleep,
A thousand dreams take flight

Moon, Venus, Timpanogos. Image, Steve Olpin.

Winter Adventure: Packing List

December 28, 2018December 27, 2018 | Megan

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While on winter break, we’re headed North to catch some extra snowflakes. I know that many of my readers are native to four-season climates, but it’s always helpful to have a go-to packing list for winter weather and winter adventures regardless of whether you’re out in the cold on the regular or a sun-baby leaving the palm trees for the slopes!

One thing that I’ve learned over my many cold-weather packing experiences is that it can sometimes be hard to pare down your choices when it comes to frozen conditions and that the frigid elements make what you put in your bag even more important.

My short list is– two to three sweaters, two flannel shirts, two pair of jeans, two base layers, one pair of snow pants, two pair of boots, two coats, one pair of gloves, one winter hat, one buff (or neck gaiter), five to seven pairs of socks, and one pair of pajamas.

My Post

Sweaters x 3

First up, my very favorite piece of clothing—The Sweater. Sweaters really are a necessary part of packing for winter travel and adventure. My all-time favorite travel sweater is this gray merino sweater from Patagonia. It’s a men’s sweater from a few years ago, and I have gotten more wear out of it than any other sweater I own. If you know me, that is saying a lot because I am a sweater horse and have a collection that is well-loved and well-worn.

The key to a good sweater for adventure is to invest in some real wool. I could sing the praises of wool all. day. long. The important thing about wool is that it traps and keeps water and wetness away from your skins, dries quickly, and maintains warmth, so while you may be wet and even sweaty you’re much more likely to stay warm and toasty in wool. Cotton is the opposite, it keeps water next to your skin, is very heavy when wet, and takes a very long time to dry. The best option for snow shoeing, skiing, and snow biking is wool, hands down.

Flannel x 2

Though flannel is often made from cotton, I have one thick Woolrich button-up that’s also made from wool and I bring this on every winter excursion. I will also break my no cotton rule for flannel as they are comfy extras and can easily be layered under a sweater, coat or other heartier piece of outerwear. I have several favorites from Madewell including this option.

Jeans x 2 + Snow Pants

I bring jeans for days or times that I don’t plan on being active like a nice dinner out after a day of skiing, or our plans to ring in the New Year with friends in Sun Valley. Jeans are great for long travel days in a plane or a car so I always pack a couple pair. My current faves are a high-rise pair from Madewell with a button fly.

I also love this ponte pair from James Jeans. Because these are old and sold out I’ve scoped out two other pairs you might want to look at, HERE, HERE, and HERE. They are the perfect blend of refined because they have back pockets like jeans, but they are made of poly so they feel and wear more like a legging.

Base Layers x 2

Crucial to all winter travel, especially if you are mixing in outdoor adventures are base layers. I also recommend wool base layers and it’s good to do your homework in this area because there are so many different variety of wool under-layers. For temperate climates I love this light weight Smartwool underlayer. But for a thicker, substantive pair you might want to try the new Patagonia capeline air base layer. They’re made from a merino-poly blend and the reviews are tops!

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Gloves x Hat x Buff

Also very necessary to keeping warm and wonderful is protecting all of your extremities. I have been wearing a pair of Gordini gloves for several years now. Partially this is because I don’t downhill ski and partially it’s because I haven’t needed anything warmer. This year my sweet hubby bought me a sweet pair of Hestra gloves and my life has forever changed. Gone are the days of frozen flanges. I couldn’t be more stoked.

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The hat I’ll bring is this fun red beanie. Pick something warm and why not go for a puff-ball on top if you’re feeling winter-festive? And let’s not forget that neck. I wear a neck gaiter nearly every time I head out into the frost. They are a must have if the wind picks up, and it is always nice to warm up your lips on long slogs.

Socks x 5

You can never have too many pairs of socks. Well… I guess if your sock stash caused you to have to bring another carry-on you may have over-done-it! I like to bring five to seven pair of socks. Here’s the thing, if your feet are cold add a pair of socks. Doubling up on socks has saved me on more snow shoeing expeditions than I can count.

Our favorite sock fetish right now is definitely Stance. However most of the ones I’ll bring are actually these wool cycling socks that I like to steal from my hubby. They are plush! Your feet will be nice and roasted when you’re finished.

Boots x 2

I’ll bring three pair of boots with me on this little adventure– my Sorel Joan of Arctics, my Asolo hiking boots, and a pair of more fashionable booties, THESE if you are interested. If we weren’t traveling by car, I would need to rethink my shoe choices and stick to two pair of boots. I am also toying with throwing in my favorite winter slippers by Haflinger. These babies keep out the cold on any frozen floor.

Coats x 3

For a trip that consists of space saving measures I would bring a packable down coat, and my wool winter coat. Because we are in our own rig I’m bringing my Gortex shell as well. I just updated to the Patagonia Powder Bowl jacket, but I had my last Gortex shell for almost fifteen years. The fact of the matter is if you buy quality your cost per wear often plummets.

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