Through the Dark Night

The valley lies in darkness,
the earth pulsing
with great mystery.
Trees vibrate in this pulse
as do the widespread seas.
Deserts shift in waves,
animals move in migration.
On the outer rim
the earth turns quickly
while at the center
there is stillness
and a silence
reaching through stone,
sand and water.
We may be spun by the wheel
or return to the core,
to the place of emanation
where life is born.
The forces move in procession,
water, air, earth and fire,
cleansing what must pass,
giving form to what is asked
from the deep heaven.
What may we bring to this altar
but our breath of thankfulness,
alive and enduring
through the dark night
to the living day.



photograph by Sandy Brown Jensen


















Reading of “Through the Dark Night” with music by Samuel Barber


Winter Solstice

Out of the unseen
headlights crawl,
carving darkness
into makeshift pieces
above the breathing earth.
The bare branched trees
drink from forgiveness
in the wet rooted ground,
the ceremony of renewal
continuing below,
gathering strength
during long winter nights
for the rising to come.



photograph by Javier Aragon






















Reading of “Winter Solstice” with music by Gary Courtland-Miles


Time to Remember

Sun breaks far to the south
barely surfacing on the horizon,
the earth starved for light
as solstice approaches.
Forlorn as a whining motor
the trudging path meanders,
seeking any truth left
in the crater of the godless.
I recall her innocence,
the pale green eyes and delicate skin
inviting the surrender
of my testament.
Following the trail to the altar beside the river
hawks circle in clouds of mist,
the water running cold and pure.
If I enter the freezing stream I may die.
Reaching back in the ancient tongue
to go forward, solitary as crow,
what I seek lies beneath the earth,
above the cold winter sky.
Now is the time to remember.



photo by Kishan Upadhyay

















Reading of “Time to Remember” with music by Syntaleta


Signaling Grace

Rain clouds sift across the valley
in the late days of autumn.
Stripped bare like the plum tree
I lean into the weather,
welcoming the changes
wrought once more
on the yielding earth.
The spreading fear of death
crowds the space for life,
yet around us the earth
surrenders its green leaves
and soft grass for the plunge
into root and darkness.
In the sky geese travel
with the faith of feathers,
following trails across
the wide arc of heaven
to the wet marshes
of their winter solace,
signaling the grace
awaiting their descent
onto the cold fields
of November.



photograph by Louis MacKenzie

















Reading of “Signaling Grace” with music by Erik Satie