the trees don't judge me the way you do pinning me down to outdated impressions the trees don't scrutinize me the way you do seeing me through a lens that only fits you the trees see me in a way you don't they don't hold on to old stories they bury them like roots in … Continue reading Forgiveness
Ancient rocks, ancient like glaciation, tumbled through centuries and through time, and etched their way into the earth. The wind sounded like water, like waves, pushing though leaves of the highest trees, waving above and so below, all around me. A bird repeated a stanza, its song hollow, echoing. you give me steps to climb … Continue reading Answers
On the path ahead of me lay death. Belly up, frozen in time, in fur soft enough to be curious about; I wonder if its fur is still soft? It shook me, the sight of the vole - the sight of its four little limbs, stuck straight up, pointing on up to the spirit in … Continue reading Life’s partner
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 cooes 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 … Continue reading What the wind wants
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
Fingers like twisted branches reach for a pen to write about the lines that fold around her gnarled knuckles dry with age from holding onto stories too long her forearms rest heavy on the smooth white pages of bark as she writes her story with ink made of dirt; lines of language.