owls in willow trees
saddest of images to me
owls in willow trees
softened broken limbs in me
owls in willow trees
let mossy scars all over me
owls in willow trees
night windows time in me
owls in willow trees
now have nothing to do with me
owls in willow trees
where I have been arrives in me
owls in willow trees
more than many of each of me
owls in willow trees
past beyond memory me
owls in willow trees
now there is enough of me
Mar 18, 2021
Mar 18, 2021 at 9:47 AM UTC
How many times have I climbed this mountain?
How many times sat in the dry leaves at the end of day?
And how many more to come?
Uncountable to me...
There must be a definite number
but to me they are endless.
Endless in number and endless
each in its own day.
Jun 28, 2020
Jun 28, 2020 at 7:11 PM UTC
I will let the moon in
one voice at a time
where the wind
tears its skin
one voice at a time
They have a lot to say
And they say it all day
Whip up the wind
the moon is finished with them!
Upon a time, once
twice again and again
with the wind
when the moon is finished with them
voices blow out of the voices’ hole
in the wind again with the skin
with the tear in the wind
with the wind against my skin
Jan 13, 2017
Jan 13, 2017 at 3:43 PM UTC
Mossy rock mossy me
by a little stream
where birds sing
as they bathe
and I pretend
I have feathers
just like them
and splash and fluff
and throw back my head
to sing and to laugh
but at the slightest sign
of alarm they fly off
and I am all alone
silent as a stone
on a mossy rock
mossy me
Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 3:00 PM UTC
Node poem here: http://www.spicynodes.org/a/7d2bb6e5228c163e0f558105ee877522
Nodes:
set up on the nice spongy ground
a ring of stones where a fire goes
strawberries all around
but they are quite now
just as the fire went
when the wind blew
they coat the ground
but their fruit is asleep
deep in their green
an idea in their genes
still none of this
is why day goes
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 10:05 AM UTC
Mayapples grow as ones and twos.
Wherever they must, whenever they choose.
When they are young they rise as one
over the forest floor on a single stem.
When they ripen and are laden
with fruit and flower the one
becomes two
I becomes you.
From then on, we bloom together
not as one alone
but as two together
balanced
on a single stem.
And between us blooms a flower
neither alone could bloom before
and from us comes a fruit
to seed the forest floor.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 9:42 AM UTC
Earth
Ear
Earthear
Art hear
Art ear
Earth hear
Earth are
Theart
Hearth
H earth
H eart
Heart
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 2:51 PM UTC
Witch-hazel blooms in the winter light
Upon the grey rocky mountains’ height
A lady comes upon it and she weeps to see it bloom
So close to the winter and the snow comes too soon
Witch-hazel bough in this lady’s hair
She hears the owl call from its hidden lair
In the dark where her love’s gone and she must follow soon
Now that the snows covered over the witch-hazel bloom
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 4:24 PM UTC
Hug the earth close
as the moon goes around.
We all have lights
some greater, some lesser.
The sun is so generous
it doesn’t need to shine all the time.
It leaves room for the moon's turn,
and the moon turns the sun into time.
In waves it comes
gradually, as an evening ends,
as a child matures.
The child matures
as it grows dark many times over.
Is the child still afraid of the dark?
Or does darkness just mean stopping
laying down, listening without moving?
It is so still tonight.
The moon is just beginning.
Once again, just beginning.
The stillness is like the darkness
it makes the earth closer,
the mountain the unclasped hand
hugging me closer
sheltering my little light.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 9:05 AM UTC
Hug the earth close
as the moon will try to pull you from it.
It wants you to float like an unreal number
in endless digits never coming to rest.
It comes to rest in pools left behind by tides.
The stillness of the water is the template.
The intricacy of the pattern is the movement.
I’ve never not been here before.
What does time say to the other
to shake it loose from timelessness?
Leaves cover the stones
November is the season’s bones.
Leaves cover the ground
the book of nature unbound
the trees are writers out of ideas
the forest a library after an earthquake.
So hug the earth close
whisper the affirmations
-- It is always Close, always Here
It is in All and is All --
and write them on the palms
you busy your days with
for the page lies when it lies down.
So stand it up
and mix it up
with the leaves you walk through.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 9:02 AM UTC