What the wind wants ties me to spirit, brushing past my ears she takes me aside wrapping my shoulders in a shawl, yarn spun with cloud, she coos towards me "show them you have something they want."wondering through air, kicking up dirt, I ask the trees for advice what must I do for the power … Continue reading What the wind wants
poetry
Lingering in snow
A twig fell from the tree shaped like a pen I wrote in the snow drawing lines with my voice the network of roots below the frozen ground mirrored the myriad of crisscross connections above my head disconnecting from the wires that bind us I find myself lingering under the snow drops I stick out … Continue reading Lingering in snow
In the dark
Biting wolvestake their meatwhen they can get itmake no apologies.Carnivores of the woodsdevour the scent my shadow brings.To the fertile dark I ask what of my anger?and gnash my teeth against the blackness.To my ears she whispers take an oath to trust the shivers and the quivers of the pine needles in your heart. The … Continue reading In the dark
Fall
Fall towards yourselflook inward dark comes earlier.Fall behindwho carestake more timeslow downstep into yourself.Bones chilledfingers numbhead in hatsit with the world around you.Fall overno one is watchingpick yourself back up lace up your bootstell it to the squirrels, cows, chickadees, a hawk, the creek, fallen leaves, the wind. They're listening.Bones chilledfingers numbhead in heartsit with … Continue reading Fall
Made of ink
Writing is in my bonesmy platelets made of words.I write with the pens that are my fingerswaving sigils in the air. I write with the pens that are my fingers; each finger long boneshollowed outthe ink flows throughinspired by the guidance by the stories my body holds.
Bone writing
Fingers like twisted branches reach for a pento write about the lines that fold around her gnarled knuckles dry with age from holding onto stories too longher forearms rest heavyon the smooth white pages of bark as she writes her story with ink made of dirt;lines of language.
The lantern
The bridge was here when I bought the placearching slightlyever so slightlyenough to rise above the fall rains. The path to the back of my property gets steeper every year eroded over time and rainfall.The cows won’t quit complaining tonight, every nightthe crickets never let uphissrattleshatterscreachbuzzmy lantern bobs its light ahead of megolden light reminding … Continue reading The lantern
Fall balance
It is the Autumn Equinox, a few days pastthe Harvest Moon andthe witch’s Thanksgiving,Mabon; the Singing Moon.Whatever you name it, the time is nowwe are halfway between summer and winterwhen darkness emerges from the Shadows extending a hand to greet the end of light. Taking the baton, Shadow said to me, “Call in the wind … Continue reading Fall balance
Home-ing
Home is where you always areno matter what the weatheror who the bartender is.Home is inside you;you don’t need an apartmentbut you’ll be more comfortable that way.Look for your skeleton keys (you dropped them on the driveway) and pull away the curtain so your shadow can see the light.It’s not a spaceit’s not a placeit’s … Continue reading Home-ing
Angela Mason 