01 Monday Sep 2025
Autumn grips with fast approach,
a fear, a sadness, an ineffective hesitation
in the cooling molasses wrapping us up.
Another anniversary rides toward its destination.
No keeping that horse at bay,
no desire to,
but apprehension sinks–
abide and wait, abide and wait..
with a little time,
it will turn itself inside out and
become a celebration…
21 Thursday Aug 2025
Posted in approaching, fertile, honoring, light, poems, poetry, prayer, seasons, transition
≈ Comments Off on Sliver moon pink
Sliver moon pink
in morning’s blooming light.
Baby raccoon sleeps, the Mountain presides.
Chipmunks race by, tails high.
Goldfinches feast on the generosity of sunflowers,
dry and nodding.
Soon, summer’s loud pulsing concert,
the countless crickets singing to Spirit,
will go quiet.
For now, warm nights still meet bare skin
and open windows connect neighbors
in their slumbering sighs
as the length of our days shortens..
04 Friday Jul 2025
Wetness of the earth
after night’s sudden and generous rain
settles the sharp dust of hard happenings.
Sleep came long and heavy,
dreaming ridding a poison too old to name.
Bless the waters
and millions of emergent stars hitched
to an approaching clear darkness.
14 Saturday Jun 2025
Posted in approaching, change, community, connection, dissolution, generations, heart, Life, movement, poems, poetry, world
≈ Comments Off on Wannabe king
Wannabe king parades in,
bare butt flapping in the wind, saying,
My clothes are the finest in the world–
in all the worlds–
simply gaze upon them,
My apparel line, starting price 10 million,
will launch this fall.
The people hear, but more, they
see
his paunch of arrogance and delusion
while the gun salutes shoot off,
polluting collective sky.
The people march, no king, the people gather,
no thanks, no king for us today.
02 Thursday Jan 2025
Posted in abundance, approaching, beauty, becoming, companion, courage, dark, devotion, discomfort, dreaming, fertile, food, Found, freedom, human, Love, loving, medicine, movement, night, offering, Opening, pain, poems, poetry, prayer, presence, receiving, release, return, storm, water, welcoming, wonder, work
≈ Comments Off on Mettle
Withstand the Void.
Please.
Be upon your own two small feet,
at the edge,
darkness cloud-forming,
ledge a tipping perch.
Night ocean crashes on rock straight below,
the rhythmic waters moon-guided, rich and dangerous.
Call forth in echoless open and
wait,
the wind will snap and take it up.
Let the Void offer
all your fears, inadequacies, foolishness,
rage, grief, shame and sorrows.
Be with them.
Sense their intolerable
movements in your one body–
these are the monsters
you are to marry.
In union, living through and beyond
your exiled, an invitation
to what Beauty is yours deeply,
the gift to be offered back.
Leave no aspect behind–
you are here to love the denied.
Blood needs circulate.
Bones need grow. Air must enter.
Bring the outcasts and castaways under
warmth of your grand cloak.
Allow them refuge of your beating heart.
Welcome the unwanted,
a feast-filled table is set to feed everything
in dawn of this new year.
30 Monday Sep 2024
Ever make a choice that lands you
smack
in foul waters?
The best made plans…
God continues laughing.
Somewhere down the dusky road
dotted lines passing softly in the rearview
will paint an unexpected picture,
shaking disparate puzzle pieces into place,
the pieces having been siblings from creation.
Keep looking ahead,
the unfurling story behind you,
rugged with color, disturbing in greys,
fuels what is to come.
And there’s no expecting
what that may be . . .
30 Saturday Dec 2023
They rise to the occasion,
the ones you called
to a come-to-Jesus–(minus the Jesus)–and,
truly,
they break bread and drink wine.
With you.
For the first time.
Mountains of stone become sand.
Standing centuries diminish to an hour:
Movement.
You initiated it and
rise, they do;
an occasion
holding both
life
and death
because, really, how damned much time
do we have?
Really.
Grapes, and the blessing,
the bleeding,
of injury and heart,
must not be
wasted.
Moments of chance,
swim up
to our lightly closed fists.
Let the bright, fluid young creatures in.
This may be the last.
And nothing like living waters
ushers in a new year.
Upwelling.
27 Saturday May 2023
Posted in abundance, approaching, change, history, honoring, movement, poems, poetry, transition, violence
≈ Comments Off on These are the last days
These are the last days
of watching the valley open slowly
her soft green eyes,
of waiting for jackrabbit to come for breakfast,
of the coyote pack ushering in each full moon
with choral rhapsodies,
of tarantula pilgrims crossing the sagebrush mesa.
These are the last days of grit and clay dust flying
through any open window,
last of the sheriffs far more dangerous than the criminals,
of dried chiles and turquoise sky
against pink hills,
of churches holding centuries of prayer deep
in adobe walls,
of a boiling pot of cultural conflict
passed generation to generation to generation
onward making anyone arriving
within their own lifetime
a tourist.
Listen to the wildflowers and thunder, though,
and it becomes obvious–
they don’t care about endless strife.
They celebrate life and sing upward to our supportive sun.
These are the last days preceeding
the very first…
27 Thursday Apr 2023
Shaving my head on the mesa,
white sun rising behind juniper hills,
I became myself again.
I did not know I’d been gone.
With each new song of bird, new ray of light
and dropping hair,
freedom lifted, heaviness fell.
I did not know I’d been gone.
Voicing thanks to Sun
and all goodness that surrounds,
I also fell,
fell fully into the arms of Spirit.
03 Friday Mar 2023
Posted in approaching, movement, poems, poetry, rebirth
≈ Comments Off on Magpie arrived with a twig
Magpie arrived with a twig in her beak this morning,
pausing on a bare branch of one tree
before taking it to last year’s nest in the spruce.
I guess that nest will be renewed.
And the plumpest ladybug, full of spots,
waddled up a window facing the mountain.
How lucky spring is to have these visitors, and early.
How lucky am I.
Time to take my sun-starved skin outside
and face the quiet with this internal buzz.
The gathering busyness of the season seems already
to have taken hold.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 