well of course i want sun on skin in the morning while the sky shifts to autumn blue and days still sing of summer
all through the night out along the ocean clouds call in salt voices speaking rain, while up in the hills morning comes cool as rivers, infinite blue and still the goose shouts horizon to horizon claiming this perfect sky.
if i were to slip sideways between trees between worlds, blur my edges until my skin turns scale and bark and hide – it would be a soft rain, mud morning like this; with a dawn chorus of frogs pulsing cell membranes, jubilant, tympanic. and as the sun climbs the clouded sky cicadas will while…
like petals to the sun we open to this living because we are here now because life asks the living to live because this morning roused us from our broken sleep, sang us jubilant as the stars faded and our bones hummed with new light dappled on the forest floor.
once, when the world was new and shadows still danced on the edge of tomorrow and the She who sees us could still be seen, birds learned to make morning from the dark of night – singing the world into form.
today it is enough to be here wide open under a singing sky waiting for morning to find me.
who are we when we wake in the morning to light that slants through tree and glass and window and birds that sing of wonder and love and yet racism still beats its ugly heart in our community our neighbourhood the table where we gather to eat. who are we when we let silence be…
the birds swallowed the moon. it sank – fell into the trees from the soft forest sky – corn yellow and full round it fell. the birds swallowed the moon this morning called their victory from the shadows and sang its rushing ocean beauty, bright nights and pulsing trees. the birds swallowed the moon…
birds of the sky when you come to weigh our hearts with a feather, let it be that we have learned more than what we can take from the world, more than we can hold on to with clever hands. let us not be weighed down by what we thought we should have been but…
in the night the mist came stole our valley – left nothing but the sound of sea where forest and hill should be over tea we discussed the matter my dragon breath billowing with the breath of trees huddled close against the starkness of all-sky from deep within the mist above the pushing sea birds…