Friday, April 27, 2012

FlyingHome

I see my eyes in the tintypes of the ancestors
I hear the rush of hooves when I walk.
The rattle in the grass,
pulls my heart.
I feel the ancient thunder fill my bones
The crow calls to me
My soul answers
in a language lost along the trail. 

Sunday, April 22, 2012

Spinning

Every day I put my hand through the spiders' web,
to open the gate.
Every night she casts her net again.
I step out into the morning, 
wearing the ghost of her blind determination.
Reminding me how to begin.
Keeping the fierce fragility of nature in my heart.
  

Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Always in April

To embrace the blissful skin of Spring,
here outside in her perfumed air.
You walk on in the Windsor rain
to wonder
at the wisteria.
And I am here
blessing the butterflies,
in all the colors
you'll never see.