“creativity”

Woefully We Wander and Wonder

~ Wendy ~ Leave a comment

I wondered how to wander
as I walked slowly on the gravel path.

Breathing lightly and trusting all is well
I looked up to the sky and marveled
at the blue hue.

And then, as if by invitation
I noticed a tree bending in a beckoning way.

I paused at the tree,
and wondered what message it had for me.

“Be Me”

I heard clearly in my mind.

As I wandered up the steps
made of earth, iron and wood,
I considered the words.

What?
Me be like a tree?

Yes!

Be strong.
Be open.
Trust all is well.
Reach to the sky.
Receive the light
the rain.

Stay grounded.
Stay connected

And delight in the random beings
that listen and care.

Wonder not if you are perfect.

Wander always along your path.

September 17, 2025

Wendy Who Walks With Wildflowers (Wendy Hurd)
© 2025. All Rights Reserved.

It Seems Selfish to Assume I Matter

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I find it unbelievable that anyone would look out for me
because I feel at times the need to be aware and careful.
But oh how lovely it would be
to trust that there is someone.
And do they need gratitude?
Or can I simply be and know?
It’s a new concept and I doubt as if I need proof.
But wait,
Sometimes the proof shows up in a song
or a greeting
or a delay that misses a collision.
It seems selfish to assume that I matter.
But I know without a doubt that others matter
and I pray for them daily.
Even those that I do not agree with.
A part of me is always looking out for you
May you be safe, happy, healthy, and at peace.
And so it is.

— Wendy Who Walks With Wildflowers

Being in Love with Being

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My breath of love is felt in every movement
and every stillness covered in dark chocolate
Sweet and inviting.
Alone I will not be for I am surrounded in breath
Of every form of life on all dimensions known and unknown.
May my body remember with each breath
the number of times I have been held
and have held others in joy and sorrow.
Not once did I lack for even if I felt alone
I found my breath to be the source
that guides me through the torrential rain,
claps of thunder and brilliant days of cloudless skies
and sunshine that nourishes every ounce of my being.
Being in love with being simply as I am
and loving others as they are
for all are brilliant and worthy of being enough
and knowing they can ask to be held
by that which nourishes and cherishes them always.

Let All the Mothers Go

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Breathe she thought
with grace and gratitude
Dust, let go of the dust
Let go of the mother
So she can let go of her mother
And hers
And hers
And hers
And his
Let go of Mother Earth
So they can call simply relax and be
Without worry
Without fright
And into the night
They sleep a pretty slumber
Where all dreams release
And into the day they step
Step. Step. Step. And FLY
Into the sky
Releasing all
It doesn’t matter
Go. Go. Go.

— Wendy Who Walks With Wildflowers

How to See What Is Before Me

~ Wendy ~ Leave a comment

Stop talking she thought to herself as she sat uneasy
What it before her may be what is askew
Or off to the right, along the gravel shoulder
Imagination comes alive like a store needing to be told
But to see, she simply closes her eyes
And knows what is needed will come forth
Like a fog creeping in during a cold, dark night.
Quietly tip toe through the tulips
In a unique voice we all laugh at
Yet serious and serene
What is before me?
Bright colors of life unfolding
Quiet. Quiet. Quiet.
And strong.
Softly focus
With wiggling toes stretch for the stars and always be bold.

Blooming

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Invisible with the strength of the unknown
Carried like a child, tender, ungrown
Loved like a daisy in the sunshine in the spring
Tortured no longer under the weight
Let go
Embraced like a dollie given on Christmas day
Forgiven like a cherished wrong
We don’t know what blooms inside us
Until we let go, the get of hell on earth
And learn to laugh once again
Like the tired and delirious told to sleep
when the sun still shines
and the sweetness of the day lingers
like the taste of honey

Be strong in the attempts to bloom
It’s all worth it. Do it. Aho.

— Wendy Who Walks with Wildflowers

Pay Attention

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Breath comes easier
the aroma of dinner fills my heart
and I feel gratitude for all that is.

To ignore sometimes feels right
and then the attention goes elsewhere.

But what if I miss the one thing
that is most needed?

Impossible!
I hear from angels near
for what draws my attention
are the wings of angels
and their whispers of loving kindness.

Joy is all around
even when I don’t want to admit it
Joy in the candle flame
the taste of cranberry
the lingering warmth of a new pair of socks.

When I pay attention
the earth envelopes me
and allows my heart to soar
like an eagle gliding
and the sun shining
strong on a cold winter day.

— Wendy Who Walks With Wildflowers

Continuum of All That Is

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I delight in knowing we have found one another
you and I.
We bring each other up
in a true and loving light.

In the subtleness
of air moving through the leaves
and grass on a calm day.

The sunshine and moonshine
The warm ray of the sun
warming us all.

I delight in greeting companions
and how they respond in reflection.
How the flavor of tomato basil soup
reflects a dimension unknown.

I delight in seeing the world move along
in a continuum of all that is.

–Wendy Who Walks With Wildflowers

Twinkling

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Twinkling above
see below
the comfort arises never too low
far away the twilight stays
forever tomorrow until she dies

Around her the small ones,
the dear ones
they all gather
wondering why she does not share
the endearing love that she holds
down in the deepness so dark and tranquil

There is no more sadness
but only gladness

— Wendy Who Walks with Wildflowers

The Iron Door of Confusion

~ Wendy ~ Leave a comment

Between the layers

lies a collective confusion

about why we’re stuck

in a place where we know

to go

up or down.

Behind the iron door

in a space where there is no place

for joy or terror

in a place where we know

we should go

up or down.

Where the walls replaced

the once brilliant views

where there were no walls

there are now caverns of confusion

in a place where we know

to go up or down.

We move, we follow,

we express our sorrow.

But what do we do?

We pry open the iron door where we know

to go

up or down.

Laughter subsides

and we all arise

awakened to the choices

awakened by the voices

of the children  playing

and the trees are swaying

away from the collusion

and much confusion

form the place where we know

to go

neither up nor down.

— Wendy Who Walks With Wildflowers