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Sunday, May 26, 2019

Signs and Portents

I'm open to signs (though apparently deaf to their meanings). So when a flock of crows flies by me the minute I step onto the deck to do my morning chi gung, I pay attention. Especially when it's crows we're talking about.


No sooner had I lifted my arms to the sky than I heard three quick caws. As I moved my head from side to side in the Swimming Dragon, I saw the entire group fly by in response to the leader's caws. East to west they went, in twos and threes, in tens and twelves.


Don't tell me, because I already know, that this is what the crows do every morning. And I know they will return as a flock when the sun is setting, having put in a full day of doing crow business. But my knowing that this flight is but the crows' habit doesn't take away the thrill. And the wondering: what am I meant to deduce from this about how to spend my day?



Copyright © 2019 Ann Tudor
Food blog:

Sunday, May 19, 2019


The great mystery isn't solved

until it's over,

"it" being the short life

we were birthed into

(for whatever purpose, which is also a mystery

to all but a fortunate few who retain the memory of that time before).


How we love, we humans,

to solve

(to claim to solve)

the mysteries,

then to recruit to our view

as many others as we can,

looking for company in our certitude

that this,

or that,

is what will happen when it's over—

we revel in this sureness instead of

fixing our laser gaze on life,

on what's here now

for us to experience

(yellow tulips, red cardinal).

I will plunk a chair in the front yard

to contemplate the tulips

while my heart sings

with the spring sound

of the newly returned neighbourhood cardinal.



Copyright © 2019 Ann Tudor
Food blog:

Sunday, May 12, 2019


Look back not in anger,

though that might be a first

and justifiable


Look back in sorrow if you must:

for opportunities ignored,

slights held tightly,

events uncomprehended,

needs unmet.


Look back with forgiveness.

How wonderful to do this, if you can.

Forgive yourself.

And then the others, none (well, few) of them

malicious but simply thoughtless,


and so self-concerned

that you were not even

on their radar screen.

(Note the parallel with your own self-concern.)


Forgiveness needn't account for

the totality of hurts

and scalding words

and misunderstandings.

Forgiveness needs only to forgive.

The essential (did I not tell you yet?)

is to start with yourself.

How wonderful.

How terrible.

How hard.


Copyright © 2019 Ann Tudor
Food blog:

Sunday, May 5, 2019

Too Much Time at the Window

When I should be up and doing,

I'm still in the sleek rocker by the window.

My vista is not a frozen lake

or a Norway spruce

but an urban landscape.

I watch the sidewalks, both sides of the street,

blessedly free of ice now,

though until recently

the lawns were patchy with leftover snow.

The neighbours race to their workdays,

their faces tense.

They see me spending too much time

at the window

and perhaps they envy me my leisure.



Urban vista or no,

from my window I once saw a young fox

catch and eat an even younger squirrel,

although the age references are imaginary

for what do I know of a fox's age,

or a squirrel's?

I'm quibbling over this

to avoid telling you how I felt

when through the window

I saw fox killing squirrel.



Copyright © 2019 Ann Tudor
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