she realised that day, canoe cutting silver through the dark water that slid quiet strokes, that she loved that hill. had perhaps always loved the hill, living mystery with steep up down forest slopes held in the curve soft arm of a river where once she had sat, river rocked singing low, her arms encirlcling…
wednesday morning after night rain,out in the dirt road – spade in handtrying to redirect the run-offto rain channels and contour pondsthat will fill overflow, soak to the rootsbefore, steep hill forest,it will make its way to the small river, deep valley,that rushes and roarspulling dead wood and tangle in its flow,to join the wide…
easter weekend – beforeand after autumn rainwe walked the fern paththe damp underfoot paththe deep tree shadeblue sky raven paththat flows along the riverclimbs slowly until the quiet deepbecomes the flow rush through river grass,marimbas smooth over rocks,dashes pool to pooluntil birdsong becomes the river calling loudlyas it falls white water to dark pools. we…
morning earlybefore the rain,before the sun –the birds, the birdsare waking the dead,shaping shadows into lightinto light yesterday an addercrossed the roadscales aglow andpungent with life and i know how it iswhen our deities crawlfrom dream to bask a whilein the glory of spring sun – and how we in turn,like the silent scrapeof dust…
deep shadow purpleand heavy with dewi pick morning violets, small water orbspetal cuppedrefracting silver and spring, held by the sweet scentof every lifetime spentwet-kneed in the morning,picking quiet violetsforest edge it is a lonely soundthe distant hollow thudof the gravediggers spadeforest edgein the morningbut deathhas always beenlonely –unwanted, unsummonedunexpectedeven when it isinevitable yesterday old brannon-ponydied…
1.tuesday morningsunbird sang spring – and westill deep bundledin winter sleep stumbledout the househalf-rememberinghis song. 2.on my desk between potted plantsand two birdhouses storm-downedand in for repair – amidst pencilsand paintbrush and candle and river stones –six ants are carrying off the wingof a larger, now clearly flightless, insect – i sip of my waterreplace…
1. i suppose it would happen,leaning into what it means to livealive in the worldto live truly open, i suppose it would happenthat i would wonderwhere you were in the worldwhere you are and how it happened thatour way togetherwas lost. 2. when we forget ourselvesfor a while –forget the me, forget the us,forget who…
are there wordsfor this light –words for the waythese trunks twist crevicefor lichen and moss.is there a name for shadowsstrewn forest floorlike windfall petals, when i sit herereally here on this leaf litter floor,are there words for the forestthat rises and sways through me,plays me wood string resonantamong the trees. 16 April 2023
in the spacebetweenhere and now,in the spacebetween two handsheld together in prayer,in the spacebetween me and i,the stars lean closein an expansive skyremembering – rememberingin the the silence betweenthat in our bonesin our cellsin the fractal minutenessof our beingwe tooonce werestars. 18 April 2023