06 Thursday Nov 2025
Stuffy air,
music turned low,
one of two fans rotating slowly.
The black and white photographs of yesterday,
framed moments of distant, lonesome,
beautiful lands, suddenly gone.
A grumpy, dark-mooded barista does her best
to make no eye contact while handing drinks over
the bar.
Old guys with papers, young women with computers,
the morning still holds close to this room–
a strong, clean autumn wind begs
to clear this place out.
12 Sunday Oct 2025
An acoustic guitar and a train track beat…
we’re chugging rugged countryside,
rounding bends,
wind streaming through open windows.
I think I’ll watch every dry yellow leaf flutter
and fall,
each flock of grass nod, swish and bow to the sun.
Sometimes grief’s a tar sticking in the lungs
and working to let it go means little
but waiting, waiting becomes the story,
waiting until it decides to let go of you.
The strum will fill your warm heart
as the clack-clack rhythm moves you through time–
be with what is,
it’s got its own magic, which you hold
and holds you,
growing in clarity, in beauty
somewhere on down the line.
02 Saturday Aug 2025
Wrestling with the ancestors,
shaking their tree–
Wake up, wake up! You have errors
you must correct.
Generations long damage still revealing itself,
this is not solely on the living.
Clear the way, remove the pall,
obstacles you unwittingly erected,
not the monuments you believed them to be.
Pick up a sledgehammer–
face your mistakes,
smash their marble facades,
crack the foundation,
watch them crumble and let wind blow them away.
Your legacy awaits.
Life needs to bloom.
Get on it!
14 Friday Apr 2023
Medial Woman,
I place my trust in you
who reweaves the world in vision, web and pearl.
Stars offer themselves to your old and nimble fingers,
music of your silent imagination.
Cradling myself in the timeless,
the wide, stable feet of your journeying,
I pluck feathers from the western wind,
forage in fields, in forests, spanning forever.
There’s not an ocean, in singular swirling,
that together we’ve not swum.
Beneath your gaze, egg-filled nests become visible,
rising springs share their voice
and solace of a kindness of words flows
through your unmoving lips.
I train my ears,
I train my eyes,
I allow the knowing in my hands
to find their joyous, wild and original way.
09 Sunday Apr 2023
The Wind is up
and her voice big. She sweeps
and dips, grabbing and forcing flee–
her humor boundless as her movements.
She carries tale from far, far away,
distance being her spirit flying,
and your ears are the intended settling place
for the riches of that unique story.
However we have cuffed our own ears after
having them cuffed,
we need remind them gently,
open,
yes, open–
gifts are coming and
we must prepare.
02 Thursday Mar 2023
Posted in becoming, change, Deliverance, movement, mystery, poems, poetry, unlearning, wind
≈ Comments Off on Changing the seer
Changing the seer,
the ground beneath and
circulation within,
in asking for this, I surrender,
for candle-flicker
moments.
Yet the moments expand
as a stranglehold of my brain loosens.
Yesterday,
bald eagle sailed–
she really does sail–
through currents of air unseen
while held aloft close to unmoving.
I’ve much to unlearn, hands of habit
to release,
both mine and not.
Ever more is asked of us to become
what we are intended to become.
Watching the slow wave wings
of white bodied, brown feathered eagle,
a glimpse of what magic surrounds us,
the Spirit of which we are made,
up-lifts me too,
reminding me of the spring that never runs dry.
19 Wednesday Oct 2022
Yesterday time gulped back on itself,
this existence a beautiful nothing amongst endless
somethings.
Hearing my mother speak for the first time;
The voice of a friend long dead and gone returning
after decades.
Wind of another eon rose up, up,
rose up tickling the inside of my ears, neck, head,
vibration forgotten here, forgotten and now remembered–
How to find my way back? No.
Not back.
How to usher forth life from there,
origin of all creation
humming harmonious,
honey of blossoms never seen
but felt and heard.
Honey flowing slow, slowly, from cracks
in ancient enormity of stone.
13 Thursday Oct 2022
Day rises over mountains here,
between spiderweb strands and curved grass heads,
each breeze taking
more leaves toward winter.
Autumn is abrupt,
a visitor with next stop clearly on the books.
How can time be slowed when it feels gulped?
Sleep is a banging need
while what must be done must be done.
Soon, a long deep breath,
soon, soon
before the first snows…
21 Thursday Apr 2022
Wind blows a chorus in the mountains.
I’d forgotten how the trees sing in rounds,
sometimes whispering,
sneaking a song, suddenly, behind you
then switching far out in front, down the hardscrabble
with its abundant life of stone and tiny leafings,
scales and flitting feathers.
I wonder about the songs echoed
from those not swishing needles and branches.
What part of the rondo do our human ears miss?
How sweet to offer our voices back
to the heart of the mountain
by joining in its steep and generous sound.
23 Wednesday Feb 2022
A new movement is afoot,
with steps unknown. There are none.
Enter the River, whose banks
support you now.
Fear may be stripping away, removing the old,
debriding the wounds, a turpentine in the veins.
Let it be.
She beckons. Enter, and be moved.
You will learn–they will teach you.
Call up faith, rebuilding the trust you think
has been lost.
When ready, your own feet will guide and
root you deeply in place where waters and winds
may dance you, earth holding close.
In time, in time,
the Way emerges…
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 