Not much time for poems and projects today. One sweet granny square and a short poem. Here are some of the little orange bowls in use, and nested together like a little box. And the tiny blooms on a witch hazel tree.
Spheres by Beth Weaver-Kreider
The glistening eye of the golden koi misses nothing: the thousands of tadpoles huddling in the shallows, the legs of the patient heron watching for young trout, the shadow of a raven winging above the pond. The underwater realm is her contemplation.
The golden sphere of the black snake’s eye reveals the fire of life force in the vole’s underground den, the sparkle of light on the shining scales of the koi, the gleaming wings of a beetle in the leaf litter. She regards her territory with appraising eye.
The round eye of the doe holds the whole meadow: every stalk quaking with unseen breezes, every snake nosing through the grasses, every field sparrow visiting her hidden nest. Nothing escapes her silent observation.
The black eye of the raven absorbs the far view of fields and treetops, how the river winds through the valley and down to the bay, the sudden leap of a deer in the meadow below. Nothing escapes her sovereign gaze.
I needed to switch it up today, so I worked on a prayer shawl UFO, and sorted my black-lined granny squares. I thought I probably had enough for a sweater, but I think I have only about half of what I will need. I want to add a couple evil eye patches, and I tried turning one of my eyes into a similarly sized square. It’s a little big and a little awkward. I think I’ll need to look up some patterns.
Bear in the Woods by Beth Weaver-Kreider, 2026
You know that bear in the woods we choose over meeting strange men? She is our sister, that bear. That wolf. That snake. That lion. Those fangs and claws that venom, those coils and red raw rage to rend and tear. That massive spider in the cave. That flock of ravens circling above you
They are our sisters, all. And they are coming for you. You who rape. You who watch. And you who keep the silence of the bro-codes. You.
You want to know how it feels to feel unsafe in the woods or anywhere?
About three more rows tonight, and two reluctant sweater models. The blossoms are pawpaws, fully open now from the little globe I photographed earlier in the week.
Rage by Beth Weaver-Kreider
Call that volcano Women’s Anger and that one Awakening.
Feel the tectonic shift of plates beneath your feet the earthquake of women rising lifting mountains opening rifts with their rage shaking the foundations of the houses you built to cage us
A yellow tulip that has been blooming for 20 years (a baby shower gift), more rows on the grey panel, and the Midwife card from Nick Bantock’s Archeo deck.
Artemis
by Beth Weaver-Kreider
How apt that now when so much is at stake for girls when women unleash the hounds of Artemis upon the ones who prey upon our young when we call out against the cruelty yearning for a more humane way that we would send this arrow moonward this rocket basket of beautiful souls into space to commune with the moon and name one of her dimples for a beloved one to show us we can be human again
More rows on the yellow section of the bamboo shrug today, a Forest Fae card reminding me to keep going, and a thoughtful note of kind words from a friend.
Strength by Beth Weaver-Kreider
Lionwoman opens her jaws claws catching savannah grasses releases a yawn.
The force is Love the choice to live as though woman and lion are one.
(With gratitude to Beth Owl’s Daughter for her reflections on the Strength card.)
I took up my bamboo shrug project today. I haven’t worked on it for a long time, so I had to figure out the pattern of stitches again, and I made two rows before I realized that I had started at the wrong point in the pattern, so I unraveled back to my starting point and got it right the second time. I love the silky softness of this yarn.
Happy National Poetry Month!
Hunger by Beth Weaver-Kreider
What are you really hungry for? –Rob Brezsny
Today I have the hunger of the crow, that is to say, ravenous for shiny, starving for the artful view of chimney tops and aerials, roof ledges, and nests high and twiggy in the sycamore, near to where the eagles feed their own insatiable young.
Today hunger resides not in my belly, round as it is with the recent birth of my cronehood, but is lodged somewhere inside my indigo eye, deeper dark even than my wings. If I could, I would consume the world with my shining eyes, filling my soul with the map of my unquenchable yearning.
Here is the last daily poem of November. Every year I think I get a little stronger. This year I’m less desperate for the month to end, more confident in what I’ve written.
Morning Meditation by Beth Weaver-Kreider
Let today be what it wants to be Let tomorrow be a seed you store in the intricately carved box of your heart Let yesterday be the distant sound of a train whistle in the dawn
Sit in your quiet place Hear the rustling voices of yesterday Feel the growing light of tomorrow on your open palms, on your closed eyelids Breathe in the memory of what was, and the awareness of what will be
Then put on this moment like a warm sweater handmade in a joyful collaboration between your grandparents and the grandchildren of everyone you’ve ever shown kindness to and know that you belong to this moment.
Gratitude List: 1. This moment 2. That moment that was 3. The moment that will be 4. The ancestors 5. Those who are to come May we walk in Beauty!
I posted yesterday’s poem in a rush, just on IG and FB. Here is today’s.
Sunny November Day by Beth Weaver-Kreider
time winds through this fine afternoon the shine of sun dismissing the gray of days of dark and rain the line of trees on the ridge quietly stark in their autumn nakedness making lines of shadow rows of tree-selves cloned sliding down the hillside marking the memory of themselves marching through time’s steady and inexorable unwinding
Gratitude List: 1. Ugali-making (and eating) with the fam 2. Sunshine in November 3. Laughing with people 4. Being in a body–sensory experience 5. Being unsettled–it moves me forward, won’t let me get too arrogant in my positioning May we walk in Beauty!
Sometimes it takes a lot of reworking and re-arranging, and cutting up phrases to fit to other phrases. This one was almost too easy. I like how it fell together, so I am not going to tug and pull at it for a few more days. I think it’s done. Great Gratitude to all the Facebook Friends who submitted phrases!
Funny, Isn’t It? a Facebook Crowd-sourced Poem by Beth Weaver-Kreider
We had been in camp for three months. In the very middle of the front row, his bony hands clasped in front of him: “That’s why everyone hates each other nowadays— I guess poor guys dont get kissed on the lips.” My stomach drops at the muffled sound of glass breaking. Since when do men care about such things? This is a dangerous time for you.
We have to confront each of our shadow aspects. I was in the habit of considering that etheric little bone defying the course of the waters, but the crucial bit of magic was to keep your focus on every angle of a question. I had decided to build and not destroy, start with the strongest sensation. I didn’t expect it to look so wild.
Learn from those far away and long ago. In many spiritual traditions, sin does not exist. A nation where you can’t ask questions is one that is going downhill. Atonement is unnecessary, since dreams bring guidance from the well of Being. Firebrands ask questions, and I would say she is everything. Her job took on a new shimmering significance. Funny, isn’t it? How it all comes around.
Sources: Adichie, Chimamanda Ngozi. Dream Count. Alexie, Sherman. The Absolutely True Diary of A Part-time Indian. Barbery. Muriel. The Elegance of the Hedgehog Callahan, Patti. Once Upon a Wardrobe. Genet, Katherine . The Gathering. Haig, Matt. The Life Impossible. Haig, Matt. The Midnight Library. Harpman, Jaqueline . I Who Have Never Known Men. Helminski, Camille Hamilton Adams. The Way of Mary. King, Karen L. The Gospel of Mary of Magdala. Kinney, Wallis. A Dark and Secret Magic. Klein, Gerda Weissman. All but My Life. Lee, Min Jin. Pachinko. Menakem, Resmaa. My Grandmother’s Hands. Myss, Caroline. Sacred Contracts. Patchett, Ann. Tom Lake. Quinn, Kate. The Briar Club Reichel, Hanna. For Such a Time As This: An Emergency Devotional Rowling, JK. Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. Shaw, Martin. Scatterlings. Winspear, Jacqueline. The Comfort of Ghosts.
Gratitude List: 1. Playing with words 2. Being on Break! 3. How hard the guitarists and singer worked this morning to prepare for their performance at Grandfriends’ Day 4. Getting things done (this is a recurring gratitude for me–I think it’s about my tendency to procrastinate, so it feels especially soul-cleansing to have a list of things I have accomplished.) 5. Anticipating time with Beloveds May we walk in Beauty!
Mockingbird Chronicles 