Full Possession

In the growing up
Vision clears.
With the bite of attachment
through hunger and loss,
Gifts-
Sap and nectar and perfume,
the rooted water finding,
nourishment gathering,
earth holding..
Blessings
present themselves
in an upwell of golden hour light,
offering full possession
of that which blindness said
didn’t exist-
A mighty, sweet
and inexhaustible
power..
Ignorance is a back turned to the east,
a mind believing sunrise
to be myth.
Turn around,
the sky blushes for you.

Rabbit at dawn

Meeting rabbit at dawn,
her form nearly a shadow in gold grass,
voices of three owls cross overhead.
Bat descends swiftly from behind,
grazes ground,
flies sharply up past my cheek.
Rabbit hops closer, stands high on hind feet,
bringing a clear river of scent to her twitching nose and,
with offset ears, sits, scratches, and
washes herself.
Dark full-bodied mosquitoes harvest breakfast
from my backside.
Red-shouldered hawk cries dominantly
from the west,
lands on cypress crown.
Young coyote trots past.

Walk with Me

Walking the live growing edge,
Flames of experience lick heels~
In this divine purification,
Ash feeds Earth,
Smoke tendrils rise in prayer, skyward,
Heart’s passion strengthens,
Love becomes boundless,
Devotion deep,
and the weight of gravity,
a welcomed morning blanket
holding us here, joyfully embodied.
By Grace,
Presence expands,
Spark resides…
Come walk with me,
be a light for One
and another-
the view is breathtaking,
the vital pulse ever danceable,
and the space to share,
Infinite.

Morning’s yawn

Ducks in the shallow end
of calm intertidal,
Suspended garlands of kelp
in watery scoop of sand,
High bumps of cloud~
Morning’s yawn unravels.
A man wrapped in navy terry cloth and slippers
walks the slope of driveway for the paper,
A woman lounging in robe reads on her deck,
Another, in nightgown and raincoat, head bowed, smokes her first cigarette,
A third, barefoot, hops back homeward from the car,
whatever needed gathered in hand.
A feather drops from the sky
on the way home.

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.

Wild ones

Wild ones come
in waking and sleep
blurring lines between worlds
Dream unfolds open-eyed
as those of night
visit through day,
pawing the same paths
with blazing eyes held,
or dropping close on whispered wing
taking advantage of a break
in the trees
The mystic bothers not
with real
unreal
One is inseparable
and messages reach the intended,
the veil only myth.

Guardians

Two white owls
dusted with beige,
perch in pine.
Upon revelation,
visual impact,
I wake with a cry.
From familiar swoop of tree limb,
one faces water, the other
toward opposite earth.
Keeping watch over the unseen,
with them I slept.
Escaped voice suspends forming tears,
a crash out of dream,
surprise vigil.
Guardians.
Cradled in mind,
held in slumber,
worlds animate with closed eyes.