Imagine Their Returning

Winter storms arrived
lifting the sea, tearing
through the tree tops.
Funneled through
opposing islands
the channel winds
sound their presence
in a deep pulsing thrum.
I linger within,
relieved from the buffeting
as tiny birds flit in the brush,
gathering the last seeds and berries.
I’ve put away what I can
from the long summer arc,
a storehouse of brightly lit days
and star-filled nights,
of green grass
and the smell of corn.
The cave of winter
is dry and warm
with body heat.
I’ll dream of bear
and sleek otter,
of eagle, rabbit
and nattering crows.
I’ll remember
those who are gone
and imagine their returning
in bright young bodies
free of scars and harsh feeling,
eyes open and eager
for the thrill of life.






















Reading of “Imagine Their Returning” with music by Van Morrison


Shadow Dance

Green has turned to rust
as November winds
scour the island,
baring the trees.
Winter approaches
yet I linger,
hearing voices
call from caves
within the earth,
their invitation
to dream again
and share the dark.
With masks carved
from bone, fires lit
by ancient faith,
they dance
in slow circles,
holding the earth
in all its imperfection.



photograph by Jim Frid


















Reading of “Shadow Dance” with music by Ry Cooder






Pale Blue

The sound of the tide
on the ebb like a river.
Gulls feeding, crows
calling nearby.
With only so many
mornings to be alive,
the sounds and smell
of the sea bring joy.
The earth has made
a place for me,
the wanderer.
Thankful to the bone
I reach out
to the trees and
flowing water,
letting the woven nest
of place hold me,
sweetly, like the pale
blue of a robin’s egg.



photograph by Patrick Orleman


















Reading of “Pale Blue” with music by Nature.


Light that Lives

Awake in the early hours
while the stony earth sleeps,
I drop a line into the inner river,
my bone hook baited
with the scored flesh of faith,
aching for another glimpse
of the golden light
that lives where darkness
cannot reach.

















Reading of “Light that Lives” with music by Secret Garden


For Ray

We once were children,
your playful face full
of innocent humor.
Everything was funny
until it wasn’t,
but when faced
with the brick wall
of who you were
supposed to be,
you cleared the way
with the honesty
of your choice
and became the person
you always were.
The playful face returned,
that smile to let the world know
you understood the joke
and would have the last laugh,
not at anyone’s expense
but from the reservoir of joy
you found as a man
at home in your own skin.




Raymond Masseaux
1948-2020 RIP


















Reading of “For Ray” with music by Kenny Burrell