Tuesday, March 6, 2007 at 2:26AM 
Pink snow
dusts my winter boots
falling gently,
spiraling down,
sheer crystals
of spring blossoms
kissing
my upturned face,
while plum trees
dance
over
labyrinthine path
growing green
as light cascades
through branches bare
seeking warmth,
seeking the center,
seeking that moment
of stillness
when the heart speaks
and we listen...
Lea Goode-Harris©
February 2004
Sunday, March 4, 2007 at 6:38AM 
In dance
this morning I was being...
In dance here,
now, I am
this soft body,
this breath that holds me,
this space
of thoughts and no thoughts,
of stone and flesh,
wanted, unwanted,
loved, forgotten,
the red thread of remembering
winding through the being
of my longing,
my desires,
the place of my heart...
Reaching in to
the place I can not touch...
the place where I am,
here,
always...
Friday, March 2, 2007 at 2:26PM Ulla and I met today in her studio...
completing lesson two in our class
with Marilyn Radzat...
Glass leaves and flowers, no hole beads,
and lots and lots of apoxie sculpt
occupy our hands and minds...
Ulla applies her mirrored tiles...
as I wrap apoxie sculpt around my gourd...
in preparation for my tiles...
which Ulla captures as my hands fly...
piece after piece of this amazing glass
that looks like ferns of moss in bronze, gold, and green...
find their place...
Ulla on the left, me on the right,
with our center stands still waiting to be created...
Ulla gave me this beautiful antique glass flower...
I position it with foil and apoxie...
and then apply pearlescent paints...
and the inner place,
this space of waiting...
begins to unfold...
Friday, March 2, 2007 at 12:16AM Sunlight
pours through my office door
this morning...
Blossoms and new leaf green
push through the wet and cold...
and beckon me
beyond the rattle of street construction
and tight words of the morning...
This empty, open space...
dusted with snow-flowers,
holds my longing, my impatience,
like the breath of spring that is yet to come...
Wednesday, February 28, 2007 at 11:17AM Today...
was a day of longing...
that deep place in the heart...
where there are no words...
There was however...
a synchronistic e-mail exchange with a friend of mine who works with horses and people... I did some work with her three years ago, learning how to move in the way of the horse... One particular morning when we were just getting started, her oldest horse in the herd, Clancy, left his grazing from quite a ways away and sauntered over to me at a brisk clip... I wasn't alarmed, nor did I feel the need to get out of the way... Clancy came straight up to me and put his forehead on my chest, right on the area of my heart... this poem came...
Bring me horses,
lots and lots
of horses…
Bring me
little ones,
big ones,
like Percherons,
brown ones,
paints,
mustangs,
dapples,
grays,
and gold ones,
like Palominos…
Bring me white
horses
that ride in on my dreams
and black
ones that carry me home,
to myself.
Bring me foals,
fillies and colts
not yet weaned,
so we can frolic
in the hills,
roll in green grasses,
sip from crystal streams,
and chase the sun and the full moon
and grow old together,
like the oldest
and wisest horse in your herd…
Bring him too,
and all the other
grandfathers and grandmothers
so we can hear the old stories
in images, neighs, and whinnies
and our memory can be restored
so we may
once again
travel this green earth as equals…
Yes,
bring them all,
the horses…
Lea Goode-Harris
August 21, 2004