06 Friday Feb 2015
Walking away,
woman with half face stands
where I’d been,
calling me to her in stolid silence.
She, an anatomical waning moon,
skin missing.
Her muscles and unprotected eye,
blood vessels and nerves and skull,
within her wholeness,
watch-
calling me back.
I turn, meet her eyes,
and approach her knowing,
nothing but this, nothing but this.
18 Saturday Oct 2014
Posted in discomfort, lost, nature, poems, poetry, transition
≈ Comments Off on Wildness rattled
from bed i smile to see
two complete handprints
low
on a wall of glass,
an invisible companion kneeling
at the altar of treetop and sky
outside,
watering in crisp daylight,
wrapped in scented shawl of flowering ginger,
a pair of steller’s jays hops close,
the depth of my thirst mirrored by theirs
wildness rattled,
within drought, by human flood.
the growing challenge
to regain elements vital
to thrive
27 Saturday Sep 2014
Posted in nature, poems, poetry, transition
≈ Comments Off on Yellows Browns and Green
Tall lush rounds dance,
in silence-
the lotus pond full with leaf and pod.
Frogs leap.
Up the hill,
dry corn and poplar
clap their yellows and browns.
Shooshing oak,
decisive in sound, still
holds to its green.
Owl and hawk
alternate the night with day,
same as home.
15 Friday Aug 2014
Posted in nature, poems, poetry, transition
≈ Comments Off on A bright flood of nuthatches
A bright flood of nuthatches alight on young oak,
thoughts lift,
walk impossible angles,
hang from the feeding branch.
Bugs and birds, marriage of prey and predator,
a beginning and end allowing more
to begin.
In savory pause,
A break in the sky carries them away…
01 Friday Aug 2014
Posted in fearlessness, freedom, learning, poems, poetry, transition
≈ Comments Off on Impact
In a blink,
impact.
Syrup-salt of sorrow.
You are not once
what you were,
with your many faces,
deceptive promises and
intense draw.
In lifted fog
I see,
returning my gaze,
eyes missing clarity and joy, while
I gain understanding,
at last-
I lent the passion
for our fire to burn.
The flame is mine.
Now, I carry it close
to warm and light my own way.
10 Thursday Jul 2014
Layers of tree bark,
braided pale paper wood,
and
A hole,
dark, deep, easily unseen..
Web strands whisper her presence,
then spiral thickly in
towards silence and no light.
Blowing gently through the open door,
she tucks her black shiny body away
from uninvited wind.
Disturbance not intended,
clarification made.
Spider~
graceful, delicate,
quiet, hidden, fast and capable weaver,
Why greeted with such fear?
Welcoming your power, fascinated,
held in awe,
Fear crawls, courage flies-
Let’s alter that and dangle from silken threads
of our own making.
21 Saturday Jun 2014
Open the door
and let the rain in.
That house you built offers
no protection.
Why obscure
the slant of light from the horizon?
Rain brings more than flowers-
Water keeps you alive.
07 Saturday Jun 2014
Laying this body down-
slumber denied, dream delayed-
she comes over me.
And I grow feathers.
From crown,
quills push through skin and
rush earthward..
flaring, fingering,
as ice crystals might broaden or scales overlap,
not resting upon but merging, rooting..
overcoming brow, eyelids now avian.
Beak descends, replacing nose.
Spreading downward,
feathering across shoulder
and ridge of limbs-
strong arm becomes stronger pinion.
Her penetrating vision. Her powered flight.
Protector and guide,
humility and respect give rise
to these wings.
07 Monday Apr 2014
In the Illumination
you will wriggle, tug, push free the skin-
your skin- as
equally, it will be wrest from you.
In the remaking, upon looking down,
nothing remains.
And nothing is everything,,
What you thought was you
as forgettable as yesterday’s spent tea-
grateful for the drink it provided but done
so done.
With the infant sight comes
rearrangement
of place, purpose, person,
even in stillness.
Particularly.
While words fall short-
stones thrown across a chasm
only to skitter the scree edge
and drop-
Wait, just wait,
we’ll join
where words are as unnecessary
as stopping the rain.
02 Wednesday Apr 2014
Were I still to believe this tear
to be everything,
All would be lost.
Sorrow that swallowed the world-
the familiar swimming channel.
Invisible were the rainbows
forming
in minute globes of salt water
from my own eyes.
Illusion is a convincing storyteller.
Were I still to believe,
I could not consider that, perhaps,
I am as much a fascination for the juncos,
as they for me.
Laughter pushes streams down
pink cheeks
too.
And how it does bubble up~
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 