final frosts

Winter dies slowly,
subtle

Water seeps warmly,
sewers swell

The promise of Spring
hides-

Then sudden rush!
Torrential-

Earth soaks water,
sunlight

Sky stops short of sun,
showers.

Final snowstorms
signal urgency

Last second lessons
in swift shifts-

A single tree stands,
rooted

Follicles sensing
fragrance, free

A single tree stands,
alone –

Alive midwinter,
strong.

- February 22, 2010

Junction

Scattered people,
These aunt, dad, son, land
Disconnections
Are loosely connected,
Barely sharing days-

But these moments:

Prodigal sons sharing sentiment on phones
Strangers exchanging stories on a train-

We are won,
Yes we are found,
Family in unfamiliar places.

- December 23, 2009

silent start.

final birthpang:
a lovesimile arrives.

now/notyet order
spirit in an ever apollonian age,
this here constitution once confined now thrives.

she is ready for this press,
the crush beneath before the
weight of physical futures manifests

promises hold tight for timing
(just right)
hope stakes its claim subtly then suddenly
comes on us
like rainstorm in dusk after foggy days

we are won in waiting
rewarded for the fight
freedom reigns, making
fully alive again.

Luke 2:19 "But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart."

- December 25, 2009

dance me your self.

We can fight this good fight
without being
porcelain waiting lady
processed plastic soldier.

Woollen children,
we are wild,
otherworldly in an intentionally
haphazard sort of way

(just what i wanted).


Fears of (im)perfection,
yes!
This direction,
or fall?
But the beauty of warmth is listen:

We are already there,
already one in focus,
faltering only in finding
shared rhythm in a dance we know so well.

Teach me your movement
give me your song
send me your message
dance me your self,
fill me.

- December 30, 2009

snow maiden

my mother says I am cynical
but the frost on the trees
tells me otherwise
for I will become a snow maiden
in days
when the white blanket I call home
gently hits the ground.

my mother will be left
shoving doors closed
placing towels in their cracks
keeping out life while I lie barely clothed
swallowing life whole
each flake bringing me into being
and although I am

prone to neurotic moments and
there are times I might say die
(is that cynical?)
I am really just being
honest pure
having union with the earth
the same as with the snow

my mother
less organic
thinks I have no control
letting the world steer me
with its scenes, scenarios and setups
while I fall into disgrace at the tragedy of it all

Nature is not always happy I remind

and I remain in its pattern
trying desperately to find
solace
in flakes and leaves and drops
not to mention certain angles of sunlight
while my mother, good intentions indeed
lives a life of stable, indoor, plastic bliss

die I may tomorrow
when the world crashes into my unhappiness

but cynical, no not I
when I am just doing as
the earth tells me to.

March 27, 2007