Fed to the Earth
The world awakes to headlights, the sound of birds and coffee makers. In the dimly lit east Venus holds her place as the night sky
March 31, 2019
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The world awakes to headlights, the sound of birds and coffee makers. In the dimly lit east Venus holds her place as the night sky
Son of the Morning thought Custer at the Bighorn, ambition like his hair a trap of fool’s gold. Better to become silence beside the roaring
Creeks are grey with snow melt, the forest floor wet with rain. Spring clears the winter tangle, brush and debris carried away to rivers already
The ceremony of spring swells in winter darkness, blades of grass parting wet ground on the altar of beginnings. Incantation and incense formed by the
Winter’s gift returns to the valley, rain soaked ground drinking deep, evergreens lifted to gray skies. Mountains gather early snow, rivers their wet season run.