In this decayed hole among the mountainsIn the faint moonlight, the grass is singingOver the tumbled graves, about the chapelThere is the empty chapel, only the wind’s homeit has no windows, and the door swingsdry bones can harm no one … Continue reading
“Just a minute, said a voice in the weeds.” So I stood still in the day’s exquisite morning light. – Mary Oliver
Most feathered friends have taken off in flocks heading south by now. I read this poem and thought of them…wish I were in their feathers right about now, weary, tender and happy to be soaring with friends sans regrets to … Continue reading
(In my sleep I dreamed this poem) Someone I loved once gave me a box full of darkness. It took me years to understand that this, too was a gift. – Mary Oliver from Thirst (Beacon Press, 2006)
Side by side with me until our midriff clenches no more, until I feel the agua frescas like a waterfall, whilst the last drop was some time ago. Heels dig into moody and lyrical lure, and yet without paper to … Continue reading
A solitary swallow and a costly Spring.It takes plenty of work for the sun to return.It takes the thousands of dead standing at the wheel.It takes the living to give their blood, as well. My God you Master Builder,you placed … Continue reading
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