A poem by my mother


Had I been adequately prepared for your visit,

I would have…

Plucked the weeds from my garden

And replaced them with budding beauties,

Invited you to sit on a soft carpet of moss,

Shaded by growing greenery,

Planned a picnic of your favorite delicacies from distant lands.


I could not arrange an appropriate setting,

Yet you made yourself at home among weeds and unpainted boards.

You refused refreshment and placed my needs ahead of your own.


Like our Lord, you came to serve.

Long after sunglow, I’ll savor your sensitivity.

~Nancy J. Ressler


photo credit: Grant MacDonald via photopin cc


There was a day each year

when baby ducks were led

from the nest behind the school

through crowds of teachers, students, praise


Waddling over smooth, linoleum floors

through the lobby where the crowd

beheld the sacred, duckling footsteps to the door


They would leave the nest

smooth, round tables

long days of numbers and words

for dreams of water songs and wings

made real



© Angela Bigler 2013


photo credit: stevehdc via photopin cc


I should have bowed down

And surrendered

Every day


I should have told you

I could see you


Like the wings of all those geese

Who flew away

When we could not


Our minds are different

Every nuance

Every chord

Like tight wound wire



All the songs and visions


The feelings come in swarms

Through skin and bone

And brain

All those nerves

Are reaching

For a breath

Within the flame


Without it

Where would words be?

Would summer be so deep and hot?



Can we live without ourselves?

Maybe, for a day

What then?

A quiet respite

In a lonely, tired grave?


You have a light


To the weight

Of all these




Till you bow down

Head to earth

And shed the blame


© Angela Bigler 2013




photo credit: chiaralily via photopin cc

Turtle Time


Yesterday, my friend and I were out hiking around a nearby lake and she pointed out two bumps on a log in the shallow water. We rushed to a better vantage point and confirmed that it was two turtles, one big and one little. Their long necks were stretched out of their dark shells. We could not make out their expressions, but I imagine they were happy to be together warming in the sunlight.

Right now I feel like a turtle taking small steps in the writing of my book. This is a time of cautious reflection.  I, like the turtle, need my four feet on the ground. Inside my womb-like shell I can wade through the pages and ask myself the big questions. What is the goal of this book? What scenes matter most? What can be left behind? How do I balance the heart of what I have to share with an adventure that engages the reader?

What I know for certain is that it is a book about finding light in dark places. It is about our roots, the ones we are born with and the ones we create. It is about the magical point of light that can save you on the darkest journey. The kind of spark you see in lucid dreams. This tiny, spinning orb hums as it pulses and shines.  You reach out to touch it and it radiates through you as a warm, inner blanket.  I want to take you with me into this forest, transform and fire you with the elements and send you home polished and new. I want you to feel what it is like in the mysterious rabbit hole and guide you back to life.

I’ll venture back out when I’m done.


© Angela Bigler 2013



photo credit: U. S. Fish and Wildlife Service – Northeast Region via photopin cc

photo credit: wander.lust via photopin cc



I am thrilled to be the recipient of 2 blog awards! I am new to this blog scene so it fills me with a delightful, fluttery feeling in my heart to be nominated!

From the amazing blogger Megan at http://meganhasocd.com/ I have been nominated for the Versatile Blogger Award.


From the fantastic blogger Gwen, the 4 AM Writer at http://gwenstephens.wordpress.com/ I have been nominated for the Liebster Award for up and coming bloggers.


I have been instructed to share some interesting things about myself:

I took one flying lesson in a Cessna.

I spend more time with animals than people.

I quit smoking about 3 years ago.

I love art and taking photographs. Sometimes I paint but I can only paint abstract things and not anything that is supposed to look like something.

One of my most favorite books: The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams

Currently reading: Swamplandia by Karen Russell

Currently listening to: Arcade Fire Funeral

Favorite Color: Purple – I can be seen nerding out in too much purple when walking the dogs

Guilty pleasures: George Takei feed on Facebook, Little House on the Prairie


For The Versatile Blogger Award:


http://biljanazovkic.wordpress.com/ Whose poems and paintings are amazing

http://brokenlightcollective.wordpress.com/ All submissions are from photographers living with or affected by mental illness and its all beautiful and thought provoking

http://disappearinginplainsight.com/ Francis Guenette’s site is full of fabulous thoughts on writing, her life, and glorious photographs – many from her lovely home in British Columbia.

http://nedhickson.wordpress.com/ Ned makes me laugh and that makes me happy.

http://throughtheluminarylens.wordpress.com/ Bruce not only takes stellar photographs but takes you on a thoughtful journey of places and ideas. 

I nominate this fine blog for the Liebster Award. 


http://drivelikejayhu.wordpress.com/ Jay is a wordsmith extraordinaire. He’s got that razor sharp wit I love!


I am nominating this blog for being inspiring:


http://leveluphealth.wordpress.com/ Lucas suffered a spinal injury in December 2011. On his blog he shares his road to recovery and takes the time to lift up everyone who stops by.

Thank you for visiting. I hope you are inspired to check out these great blogs.


Redwood Dream



Dreaming takes down

The light curtain

Bathes us with visions of pregnant earth

Her life, her dreams


If we could listen in

Hear her whisper in the trees

See the color in their dreams

Those monolithic earth whale redwoods


Go see them in your heart

When you cannot feel their leaves

Or bark

Or roots




She meets us there

That sacred

That vision

That rooted beauty


Folds our prayers

Into her soft bark

Her singing leaves

Her living roots


Us to strength


Footstep by footstep

Connected in

Her graceful image





All of them


These waking walking earth dreams


© Angela Bigler 2013

photo credit: Lotus Carroll via photopin cc




To be woman

Is the flowing strength



This caring for others

Breaks my heart

But lifts me

And my curves

And bone

Smooth pelvis


What is different

Is my voice

More like a song

Or spirit

Than a masculine gruff

Not that I can’t growl

And bare my teeth

And burn


But my soft folds

Add dimension

And my million thoughts


A certain way that contrasts

Yin from yang


To be woman

Is the pulse

And wind

Melodic mounds

Of birth


No matter if her

Children are

Her words,

Her songs,

Or beings

That she tends


© Angela Bigler 2013


photo credit: [auro] via photopin cc