Who Will Find Me

Who will find me
hidden away in the warmth
of this dark winter cave?
Dreams to be dreamt,
visions to be honored,
the slow eating of fat
and the quiet, quiet heartbeat.
When the first salmon toil
over rock bedded streams,
when snow falls from the full
laden branches of evergreen,
when sun finds its way
along the great arc north
then I will stretch and uncurl
from this lightless comfort
and sing once more my hunger.



Photograph by John Shaw


You May Let Go

The bright light of autumn
shines on the yellowing trees,
a steady breeze stirring
the leaves with awakening.
We’ve come round on the season
so many times before
yet each time it’s new,
as if we’ve never seen
this flutter of gold.
There’s freedom in the air
to rise or fall
as you might choose,
to follow the path
known only to yourself.
Quiet those voices
that wish to limit you.
Take their counsel if you will
but know you may let go
from the thin stem
holding you to the old bark
and take off into the air
of your future.



photograph by Sandy Brown Jensen