he said in ethiopia every plant contains the power of god, the treasure of god, the blessing of god. he said when the wind moves the branches of a tree that someone planted that the tree is praying for them, praying for the long life of the one who planted. he said in ethiopia, for…
two raven call across an expanse of blue high above the valley – their long arc gyres drift closer together, until synchronised in flight and feather close, they spiral the infinite sky as one.
falcon glides the breath of the world that flows like tide through valleys to break on forest hills, sways saplings like kelp in the surging air, brings ocean salt and cetaceous dreams to the quiet dappling light deep under waves of green.
i wanted to sleep outside under that rain threatened sky, get soaked to the bone by the beauty of the night, wake to the morning like a leaf wakes open to the light.
under a clear still sky the smell of night rain arrives on dampening air – and all that lives these drying days sip thirstily on evening cool and sigh their relief in trill and croak and call.
i listen for the sound of their wings on the morning leaning towards their wheeling flight in an infinite sky, but there is nothing but silence and their silvered wings weaving the light of creation.
it is the half moon that rises in this cricket wing sky while hadedas, loud to the horizon, find roost among the darkening trees.
night rain has yielded to a low cloud morning, wild with wind swayed trees. in the kitchen in the quiet of a sleeping house, flour falls cool between fingers to the bowl – awakens speaks soft of days in the sun winter rain and red earth. tells of open hills with skies full of stars…
today it is enough to be here wide open under a singing sky waiting for morning to find me.