the sea is one song–
a lullaby that changes
tempo and turns into the heart
beating the center
of time itself
skies harmonize–
transitional, painting
beginnings and endings
with refracted light—
clouds weave veils–
remaking themselves,
exchanging threads that
suddenly emerge with
blue clarity
and the birds!—all mystery–
color and music that arrive
when least expected,
to unwrap the world anew,
aright
For earthweal, where Sherry has asked us for poems of gratitude.
The Oracle knew exactly what she wanted to say this morning.
here are rivers
of dark night
wandering into cold winter rain
no moon lights
the lonely path
between the worlds beneath and above
who but spirit
knows how to
shine us through this deep climb?
The days seem shorter than usual this winter, and greyer. The Oracle knows.
always this leavetaking–
as if the wind was a light,
an ancient breathsong to follow
into rivers rooted
beneath deep forest moonshine–
a secret buried between
winter’s dark quiet
and the cloud-covered sun
The Oracle had the birdlings on her mind.
remember the evening sky?
each starwish so light
it sounded with the voices
of soaring between
the night opened full into
a thousand spirits
belonging to moments felt
only as wingsong
to belong
is a feeling–not
words over
heard in pass
ing, but a garment to wear–
it keeps you warm, this
chorus sung
by many voices–
it tells you
how to clear
your self, opening to be
come filled, become found
Sarah at dVerse shared with us once again the paintings of Fay Collins, and asked us to write to what we see in her images. I did not pick any particular landscape, but used the entirety of her work as inspiration for both my words and my watercolor, which reflect her immersion in and love of the earth.
Also linking to earthweal, where Brendan has asked us to praise what matters.
You can see the work of Fay Collins here.
The Oracle, as usual, sees both sides, and aligns herself with the moon.
the storm whispers
beneath language raining
a symphony of raw shadows
no no the moon sings
stop crushing my ship
with your bitter mad lust
for death
retongue your music with seawinds
swimming skylight into gardens
of mothering life
awakening I
remember myself first in
the company of trees, birds–
rustled churrings sounding
me—chatters suspended in caws
When I read Jane’s wayra this morning, after I had written my own, I knew the Oracle was hovering around.
For dverse, where Grace is hosting.
The Oracle was philosophical this morning. Of course she was thinking about the moon, water, music, birds, trees, wind and light.
Night comes like a secret,
the moon breathing ancient air.
If I wander in deep rivers,
will the water teach me its song?
Ask birds how to behold dawn–
covering trees in poetry.
Why not listen to wind
as it seasons winter with clouds?
Who can follow light,
growing always more between?
The Oracle has obviously been inside my recent dreams.
beneath a bare garden
all is still–
can dreams but cry?
time is an enormous moon
singing ships through shadows
windwhispering as if
I was not the sea
K. 